In Your Memory
by thenoblehouseofblack
Summary: The war was over and the dark side was victorious. Only Hermione had survived. In panic, she changed her appearance, keeping only her fiery brown eyes. Now Draco wants her.  Only Harry's last words keep her from revealing herself: live Hermione, live for me.
1. Can You Promise Me This

Hermione Granger could not leave England, not when she saw Ron fall, not when Lord Voldemort killed Harry, not when all hope was lost, not when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley left for Romania with Charlie when they thought all their children and Harry and Hermione had perished. Not when she found a distressed Ginny who begged her to leave with her too, and not when the Muggleborn hunting began.

No, she would never be able to leave when the last thread connecting her to her lost life was here, not when Harry's words hung over her. As she looked in the mirror of her small apartment, she saw the last sacrifices she had made for him. Gone were her frizzy brown hair and familiar features. They had been replaced with a petite face and short straight blond hair. She stared into the face of a stranger. Only her brown eyes, which she had kept to always remember what she had lost, remained. They too, however, could not have remained completely untainted. No longer were they sparkling with a thirst for knowledge. Now, they relayed no emotion, only the evidence of a long hard life, which she, at 19 years old, should not have acquired yet.

Some days, the unfamiliar face made Harry's last request almost intolerable. But to the day she died, Hermione Granger would always be loyal to her best friend, even if he was no longer with her. She put on a shawl around her head and headed out of the small hidden and untraceable apartment, she knew she would survive until it was safe for him to come back and finish what they started.

-

_"I have to do this, Hermione," the raven haired boy said, his green eyes looking out into the distance. They were in the Rom of Requirements and it had changed into an imitation of the exterior of Hogwarts, for that was where Ron had been killed. When he looked at her, his eyes were still far away, as if he were looking at a different time, a happier one, where none of this was happening. "You understand that, don't you? You understand why I have to do this?"___

_She sighed, and took his hand in hers and squeezed it with all her might not only to try to hold him to her forever, but also to tell him she'd be with him always. When he squeezed her's back, she knew he understood what she wanted to tell him. ___

_"Ron's gone, Mione," his eyes glassed over as he thought of his fallen best friend. "I have to do this for him and for you. I have to save __**you**__. I can't let the same thing happen to you."___

_"There has to be another way," her tone alone showing her desperation. "We can figure something out together, Harry. This doesn't have to be over yet."___

_"It is, Hermione. At least for me, it is. You – you don't understand."___

_"I do, Harry," she admitted finally. It had taken seeing Ron die to finally make her realize that some things were more important than her peace of mind. She couldn't protect either of them forever, and in some things, all her intelligence wouldn't matter. For the fate of the world, so Ron's death wouldn't be in vain, Harry had to do all he could to end this. "I wish there was another way, but I do. You have to go alone. You have to face him."___

_"I'll fail," he said quietly. "I'll let him kill me, just so there can be a victor and this damned war can stop."___

_"Harry, promise me," she turned to face him, her brown eyes blazing. "You can't just let him win. You have to fight. You have to give yourself a chance."___

_"Hermione, if I die, the last Horcrux will be gone and he will be able to be killed by someone who knows that," he said. His meaning was beginning to dawn on her. ___

_"No."___

_"Hermione, listen, this is the only way," he said hurriedly, his eyes tightening. "I don't want to think of you facing him, I can't. I can't imagine you putting yourself in that kind of danger, but this is the only way. If I die then you can get close enough, Mione. __**You**__ can finish this."___

_"I won't do it," she said, shaking her head and snatching her hand back. "I won't let you do this. I could understand if you were going to fight him, but Harry, what you're talking about, it's suicide. You understand that, don't you? You're giving in to certain death."___

_"What other choice is there, Hermione?" he cried, throwing his hands up in desperation. "Please, tell me if you have another plan, because this seems like the only option to me. I can't stand knowing that if I don't, if I selfishly hide away, I'll be putting you in even more danger."___

_"You'd be sending me to __**my**__ death," she said quietly, her voice trembling. "If I go against Voldemort, I'll be killed too."___

_"No you won't," he said, reassuring himself more than her. "They don't call you the brightest witch of our age for no reason. If anyone can do this, you can. I wouldn't trust anyone but you for this."___

_"It's supposed to be you, Harry! It's supposed to be you that kills him. That's what the prophecy says, __**the one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches**__. You, Harry! You have the power, not me."___

_"Maybe we interpreted it wrong, Hermione. No, listen!" he said as she opened her mouth to retort. "Maybe the power isn't actually killing him, maybe it's the power to enable him to be killed and to empower the person who does it."___

_"You're grasping at straws, Harry Potter," she folded her arms and glared at him. Still, she could see his reasoning, and it was starting to make sense. Not the empowering her part, but the enabling it part at least. That was when she remembered something she had read in the library ages ago.___

_"You have a plan," he grinned, reading her expression. ___

_"Harry, what if – well I'm not positive it will work but maybe – maybe I can bring you back," she said, trying to remember where she had read it.___

_"What?" he said, his expression clearly telling her he was wondering if she had lost it. "You're mental, Hermione. You can't bring back the dead or they would have brought back Dumbledore and my parents. Dumbledore said it himself, no spell can raise the dead."___

_"No charm is supposed to make one immortal either," she said, waving him off as she began pacing the room, "and yet Voldemort has accomplished it."___

_He began to understand. "You're talking about really dark magic, Hermione, aren't you? I don't know… that sounds dangerous."___

_"More dangerous than letting me face Voldemort myself?" she countered. 'Listen, Harry, I think I could actually pull it off. It's a potion I came across when I was in the restricted section back when we had to make the polyjuice potion."___

_"And you remember it?" he asked, smirking at her. "Merlin, Hermione, maybe Ron was right, you really are off your rocker."___

_She rolled her eyes but allowed a smile. Even in the face of peril, he made fun of her. It was nice to know some things didn't change. "It's hard to forget it when the book howled at me."___

_"Hermione, if this potion works, we could bring back Ron," he realized. "And my parents, and Sirius, and Lupin, and Tonks, and Fred and Dumbledore! Blimey, Hermione, we could bring them all back."___

_"No we can't, Harry."___

_"Why not?" he asked, his green eyes blazing. ___

_"Because it only brings back people who have unfinished business," she said. "And people who knew about it. There's a spell we have to cast before you die. Oh, I wish we could go to the library right now."___

_"Why can't we?" he asked, taking her hand. "Or rather, why can't we bring it to us?" He led her out of the room, and closed the door. "Walk back and forth and think of a library with only the book you need."___

_She nodded and practically ran back and forth. With Harry's allotted hour, they didn't have much time left. A library door appeared and they both burst in. The bookshelves were bare, but they saw a lone book on the table in the center of the room. "Hermione your brain power is amazing. I couldn't concentrate."___

_She smiled and then opened the book, quickly looking for the spell. "Here it is," she said, looking it over. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at him. "Magicus extractum livium."___

_A bright light erupted from within Harry's chest and flew out into Hermione's wand. She grinned at him. "I'll be able to do it."___

_He smiled and took her into his arms, holding her tight against him. "No matter what, stay safe and live, Hermione, live for me. Don't let them win." She felt his lips graze the top of her head. "And when you think it's safe, then cast the spell to bring me back. But not before Hermione. Don't put yourself in danger because of me."___

_"Harry," she laughed into his chest as she tried to pull him even closer to her. "I've been doing that for seven years now."___

_"Let's not make it 8, alright?" he laughed too. He pulled away and his green eyes held hers for a long moment. "Survive, Hermione. Whatever happens, whatever you have to do, survive. Promise me, Mione. Promise me you'll do whatever it takes to stay alive."___

_His words rang with a weight that she knew would hang over her. Still, this was Harry, her best friend. She would do anything for him without a second's thought. Even now, staring into his eyes, she did not hesitate to say, "I promise."_


	2. I'll Do Whatever I Have To

_The end justifies the means._

That was what she had been told over and over again in her life, that everything one did, in the end, the only thing that mattered was the final result. She studied so much and now that knowledge was keeping her alive. She had performed a dark spell, and one day, Harry would be able to be alive again. She, Harry, and Ron had deposited a large amount of gold into an account in Gringotts for emergencies, and now that was funding her survival.

She had never understood the words till now. What good was having a good career without the knowledge that helped you get there? What good was survival without the actual living part? But now, now as she thought back on her hard year, she knew the answers to those questions. She knew that in the end, her choices and sacrifices and hard decisions would be worth it, because Harry would be able to come back and he would save her and everyone else. Every death, every neglected victim, every wrong thing in this world, he would set right. Everything she had done wouldn't matter, because the world would be right again. She knew she was setting so much on Harry's shoulders, but she knew her best friend would be able to do it. He would be able to because he was meant to. It was his destiny, just as she knew now that this was hers.

That was why she had hesitated only a moment when she changed her appearance. That was why she had barely even had to consider leaving the battle at Hogwarts when Harry left to face Voldemort. That was why she had tried to ignore every crying and tortured victim on the street. She had to stay alive. She had to keep her promise. The only time she had hesitated was when she was leaving Hogwarts and she came across a slain body to an unknown witch. Hermione knew it was wrong, but after staring at the forgotten body for what seemed like hours, trying not to think about the woman's mourning family, she took out her wand and cast a spell to turn the unknown face into her own. And just like that, she added her name to the list of the deceased and the unknown witch's name to the missing person's list. She couldn't let anyone search for her. She couldn't let anyone know she was still alive. The end was too important. And so without shedding even a single tear, she put on Harry's Invisibility Cloak and waited until someone found her body.

Though she had prayed it wouldn't be a Weasley, she watched in silent agony as Arthur found her and fell to his knees, weeping openly. As she watched him, knowing however much she wanted to, she could not comfort him with the truth, she knew this was better. Now they would mourn her, Harry, and Ron together. Even in their supposed deaths, she and Harry would always remain with Ron. The thought comforted her as she turned from the weeping man and walked away.

She had then gone to Gringotts and withdrew every galleon, knut, and sickle out of their emergency account. She knew it would be too dangerous for her to do it again after this, and she didn't know how long this would have to last her. She went to the most discreet building in Knockturn Alley and rented an apartment with her new identity. She went from Hermione Jean Granger to Jean Wyler. Wyler had been her mother's maiden name, and she took comfort in the fact that she could keep some of her parents with her, even if she was destroying her link to them.

She had always wondered why the wandless beggars in Diagon Alley during the last days before the war didn't just go blend in with Muggle London and start their life again, free from prosecution. But now she knew. They did not want to leave their loved ones with no chance of news. They did not want to sever the last connection they had to their lost ones. She knew because this was why she could not leave, though as Harry Potter's best friend, if she was ever discovered, she would be in more danger than anyone besides Harry himself. She had to stay so she could hear what was happening so she would know when to sneak into the Ministry and the Department of Mysteries to call Harry back through the veil.

+++

Hermione wrapped her cloak tighter around herself and walked faster down the Alley to Diagon Alley. She wished she could wear the Invisibility Cloak, but there were too many people on the street and it was too narrow for her to make it through with it on unnoticed. She rarely left the apartment, but when she did, she left for only two reasons. One was to get provisions, like she was now, and the other was to listen in on the gossip of others. She had found that it was more useful to listen to the telling of those most negatively affected by the new regime than those who benefited by it. Over the year, she had found that it was more reliable. For that, she needed the Invisibility Cloak, but at times like this, when she had to get food and supplies, she could not.

It had been a whole year since she had left the battle and Harry had been killed, his body desecrated. She had looked for an opening, for the small chance that perhaps it was time to bring him back and take the world on. But she knew it was too dangerous right now. She knew she could sneak into the Department of Mysteries and bring him back but they wouldn't get much further than that. They would be caught and everything would be lost. As hard as the year had been, as much as she wished it were time, she knew she had to stick it out for a bit longer. She had to make more sacrifices. Of course, for Harry, she would make them happily. That was always how it had been. Harry could always count on her, always. And she would always be here for him.

She now made her way through the different stalls along the Alley. She didn't bother haggling even though the prices were ridiculous. She couldn't afford to draw attention to herself or stay longer than necessary. It was safer, she had realized after the first month, to go through these stalls rather than inside the shops. If anything happened, she needed an easy quick exit. The only shop she still went in was Flourish and Blotts. She knew it was a dead giveaway. No one in the history of the shop had probably spent as much time there as Hermione Granger, and now Jean Wyler. But it was one thing she could not give up.

She was walking there when it happened. She heard the whimpering, and when she looked, she knew her suspicions were correct. A group of the elite Death Eaters were torturing a beggar, probably a Muggleborn. She realized in horror that it was Dean Thomas, her old housemate. She wondered how he had survived this long as a beggar on this street. The Death Eaters patrolled daily, looking for Muggleborns and traitors. Slowly by slowly, they were rounding them up. So far, Hermione had seen the captures of Lavender Brown, Terry Boot, Anothony Goldstein, Susan Bones, and many more. She cast her eyes down as she always did and tried to walk by faster. Usually, it worked. This time, however, it seemed the fates were working against her. There was an explosion and her petite body flew back onto the ground.

"Nott, you sodding idiot," a too familiar voice called out. Though she could not see the face, she knew who it was. She forgot for a second that she had changed her appearance and felt a dreading feeling flow through her. She was caught. It was over. Instead, he stepped in front of her, and she kept her eyes down. "Well, are you going to get up?"

She didn't respond, realizing she was just some unknown witch to him. She stood up slowly, and came face to face with none other than Draco Malfoy.


	3. You'll Catch A Cold From Your Cold Heart

Hermione stood cautiously, dusting herself off before looking up to meet gray eyes. He was watching her, arrogance written all over his face. She could see that the past year had been physically good to Draco Malfoy, but just as taxing emotionally. His face was set in, and there were dark circles under his eyes. She wondered why Draco Malfoy, rumored to now be one of Voldemort's favorites wouldn't glam himself right.

She tried to avoid his eyes as he snapped his fingers at Theodore Nott who rushed forward to pick up her items from the floor. "You should e careful where you walk," he said when Theodore, another old schoolmate who looked so different handed her the bag.

"Yes, um sorry about that," she said quickly, trying to start walking. She couldn't be here. It was too dangerous. Draco knew her well enough from their 6 years at school together to possibly figure it out. But she reprimanded herself. Why would he? She looked nothing like her old self, except for her eyes. And even then, so many people had brown eyes. Still, she couldn't take any chances. She had to get out of here now. "Well er thanks for the bag. I'll leave you to er – whatever you're doing."

She tried not to look at an injured Dean Thomas on the floor as she started walking away from them. She felt horrible, but she knew this was what she had to do. As wrong as it sounded, even in her head, Harry was more important than Dean. Harry was more important than anyone, besides maybe her. But that was only because she was the only one who could bring Harry back. After that, he was the only thing that mattered.

She was so close to freedom when she heard his voice again. "Wait a moment," he called her back.

She froze, knowing she would have to stay and speak to him. It would be too suspicious if she ran, and they would catch her. They would catch her, torture her, find out about her plan and who she was, and kill her. That's what would happen. That's what she couldn't afford to let happen. So instead of running, like her instincts told her to, she turned and smiled at him. "Yes?"

He stared at her, his expression not threatening though intimidating. "What is your name?"

"Oh er Jean," she said quickly.

"Jean what?" he asked, his tone careful and calculating.

She knew the reason for his weariness. It wasn't hard to figure out. The whole wizarding community was a witch hunt for Muggleborns. There were a list, the Mudblood List it was called. When anyone of suspicion was caught, their names were matched to the list, as was their picture. Hermione thought this was stupid as they were wizards. They could change their appearance, as she had. They could use a false name, as she had. They could survive, as she had. But then, there were rumors, they caught people every day. Her old friends, people she didn't know, they all were caught one by one. Even now, she snuck a glance at Dean, who was still cowering on the floor.

"Jean Wyler," she said calmly. She was proud of the lack of tremors in her voice. She practiced every day for the last year, one hour a day. She couldn't stammer or stutter when she talked to anyone, it would give her away. It would make her suspicious enough to try the real tests. Those were the ones, she knew that caught those hiding. There were only whispers of rumors of those. When it was administered, those who took it were usually guilty and taken away before they could tell anyone. But she knew from those who had had to take it and proved themselves that it was a blood test. One drop was all that was needed, and it told the blood status and sometimes even identity. She couldn't take that chance.

He looked, not at her while she held her breath, but at Nott. Nodding at Dean, he said, "You know what to do."

Nott did not move at first, looking from Draco to her and back again. Draco growled quietly and his gaze now turned threatened as he glared at Nott. Though it was not directed at her, she felt herself tremble from it. She wondered when Draco Malfoy had become so menacing. The last she remembered of him, he was still living in his father's shadow, trying to prove himself. And now, he had clearly come into his own, because even Nott, his comrade was backtracking from the gaze. "Are you questioning me, Nott?" he seethed.

"No," Nott said quickly. "I just – I was wondering what you were going to do with her?" He nodded towards her and she winced, wondering the same thing.

"What I'm going to do with her is none of your concern, Nott," he said coolly. "Go now."

Theo Nott did not need to be told twice because he walked over to Dean, grabbed his arm roughly and Disapparated out. Hermione only allowed herself a glance at them, knowing if she saw Dean fully in his pain she would scream. Instead, she looked at Draco under hooded eyes, waiting for whatever he was going to do with her. She didn't know what to expect, especially after seeing how quickly Theo had followed his orders. Clearly, Draco had moved up a few places in ranking since the last time she saw him, and she couldn't help but wonder why.

He waited till they left before walking over to her, grabbing her arm roughly and pulling her into a dark alley. She kept herself from screaming as dread filled her. It was all over. He had figured it out. She was going to be killed and the world would be lost. Harry wouldn't be able to come back. She tried to blink back her tears of failure as he pushed her against the wall, pressing himself close to her, putting his hand over her mouth. "Don't say a word."

She just stared at him horrified and confused as he peeked out of the alley back to the spot they had been standing. She saw everyone who had been close by going about their business. It was dangerous to dwell too much on the actions of the known Death Eaters. They were in the open now, no longer afraid of reprisals if their side lost. They had won. They could command the respect and fear they thought they deserved, and she knew that without a doubt it worked. No one even looked at her and Draco and no one dwindled by the place the commotion had just been. They knew, it was better to ignore it than to get involved. They knew their survival depending on their lack of morals. They knew that another was taken but next it could be them for venturing where they had no business.

They stood like that, with her against the wall and him standing against her covering her mouth, for what felt like hours, though she knew it was only a few minutes. She could feel his hot breath on her face and closed her eyes, not wanting to look at him. She was terrified still, not knowing what he was going to do. Finally, he stepped back, his touch leaving her completely, though it lingered on her skin. He looked at her, his gray eyes piercing through her very being. Even with clothes on, she felt as if she was naked before him. A blush crept across her face as his gaze grew more intense. "I know who you are."


	4. We Can Never Be The Same

_A blush crept across her face as his gaze grew more intense. "I know who you are."_

Hermione remained silent as his eyes scanned her face. It was all over now. She had failed Harry. She had failed everyone. There would be no salvation now. There would be no third war to end it all. There would be no avenging Ron. And it was all her fault. If only she hadn't been so stupid. She shouldn't have gone out today. She shouldn't have walked by the alley when Malfoy and Nott had caught Dean Thomas. She shouldn't have – she shouldn't have done anything if she were honest with herself. But Hermione Granger was not one to willingly admit her mistakes. She knew what she had done was right and she could reprimand herself all she wanted. It wouldn't change anything. She had failed Harry, and that was all there was to it.

"Well," he sneered at her. "What do you have to say for yourself, Mudblood?"

She didn't respond again, just staring at him with fearful eyes. He _did_ know, it was not just a bluff. It was all over now. She had failed.

"No?" he drawled. "Not going to lie to me? I saw you there. I saw you at the final battle."

Dread filled her whole being. He had seen what she had done. He had seen her change appearances with a fallen witch. He had seen her shameful acts. Now that it was over, she felt disgust at what she had done. She had taken away someone's identity, someone who had helped Harry. She had stolen someone's contribution to the war. She had stolen a family's grievance. She had stolen a woman's final resting place. The charm she had placed on the woman must have been over by now and so the nameless face would lie as Hermione Granger for all of time. She hated that Draco Malfoy had seen her shameful act. "Y-you don't understand," she said desperately.

"Don't I?" he smirked. "I understand you knew your side was losing. I understand you wanted to live. I understand you hid. What I _don't_ understand is why you didn't just leave England altogether. Why stay here and risk being caught?"

Tears were now falling down her face, her heart was beating fast. "My family w-was killed here, Malfoy. I-I can't leave. You should know all about duty to the ones you love." The bile in her throat made her voice crack. She felt such shame, such horror. She was going to die, and Draco Malfoy, the boy she had hated since they were 11 years old would get the pleasure of doing it.

His face went blank for a second, his expression murderous and void of any other emotions. But he quickly composed himself, and reached over and wiped a tear from her cheeks, smirking. "So, you know my name, do you? I guess that's expected, everyone knows who I am after all."

She froze, her body shaking as realization hit her. He didn't know. He didn't know who she really was. He did not know that she was Hermione Granger or that she had somehow escaped death in the battle. He recognized the face, the one she had stolen, the one that wasn't hers. "I-I've heard of you," she lied, "the one with the gray eyes and blond hair."

"Well they are rather telling characteristics, I suppose," he nodded slowly, his eyes watching her, obviously looking for lies. This was expected of course, everyone was careful now, everyone lied, and everyone tried to figure out the truth.

She nodded slowly, her eyes locked on his, now wondering what this was about. "Are you going to turn me in?" she asked quietly, only because she wasn't sure anymore. One thing she had learned was that no one lingered anymore. No one played games. It was always black or white, night or day, yes or no. No one bothered with games, and yet, there was playfulness to Malfoy's eyes. It made her more frightened than assured.

A smirk tugged at his lips. "I haven't quite decided yet, to be honest."

He hadn't decided? What did that mean? Hermione may have been many things but she was not an idiot. He wanted something from her. Didn't they all? Nobody did anything from the goodness of their heart anymore, and she had to admit that she fell into this category now too. Everyone was out for survival, everyone was out for themselves. She knew she was no different now. She wanted to survive for herself, and for Harry. She would do whatever she had to in order to survive. "What do you want from me?" she asked quietly.

"I haven't decided yet," he repeated, his eyes piercing hers with a prominent smirk.

She sighed in frustration. She would rather he just tell her, and deliver whatever punishment he deemed fit rather than keep her here any longer. It was too dangerous. Every moment longer she spent here was another moment he could find out the truth and really kill her, really end all her efforts, really stop Harry from ever having a chance of coming back. "When will you know? Please tell me what I can do."

He stepped forward then, smirking as his finger grazed her cheeks. She could feel his hot breath on her face and looked up to see his eyes gazing directly into hers. "I'll let you know as soon as I do," he said softly as he leaned closer.

She gasped when she felt his lips meet hers. He would not rough with her, as she would have expected had she ever thought this possible. But she did not believe it, not even as she felt his tongue along her bottom lip, begging for entrance, not even when she opened it and felt him touch everything he could in her mouth, not even when she felt his hands grab her breasts. She could not believe this was happening until he pulled away, panting as his eyes found hers. They were dark with lust and she finally believed. Panting herself, she whispered, "What are you going to do with me?"

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes not leaving hers. It was as if he was looking for something, for some kind of emotion buried in her eyes. She saw his eyes tighten and a smirk broke onto his face. "Wiltshire. Apparate to a magical place and you'll get there. The secret word is Narcissa. You'll need it to get in."

Narcissa was his mother's name, she knew. And she also knew what Wiltshire was. She had been taken there once, a few years ago. It was not a place she thought of fondly. In fact, she had trained herself to never consciously think of it at all. Of course, she could not control her nightmares. Every night seemed to be consistent with two things, the first being the final battle when she had seen Ron fall and Harry go off to die, and the second was the night she had been tortured in the dining room of the Malfoy Manor. Why was he telling her this now? She did not understand. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked quietly. "Is that supposed to be some way for me to turn myself in?"

"No," he smirked, stepping back even more. "I've come up with a better solution for you. You'll come to my Manor tomorrow night."

"Why?" she could not help but ask. She knew it was not a question, and she heard the quiet threat in his tone, despite the constant smirk. She would have to go or he'd hunt her down.

He rolled his eyes. "You ask a lot of questions for someone who should be grateful they get to keep their life."

"Thank you," she whispered, knowing he was right, more right than even he knew. She was being careless, asking questions as Hermione would. But she was not Hermione anymore. She was Jean, Jean only cared of survival. Jean was thankful that Draco had shown her mercy. Jean was thankful she could keep her secret. It was Hermione that wished it had been anyone but him. It was Hermione that grudgingly _was_ grateful to her childhood enemy. It was Hermione that owed him her life and Harry's now. It seemed mental to split the two, for they were both her. But she knew it was necessary. She could never slip. She would always have to differentiate. It was too dangerous for Jean and Hermione to have the same thoughts, to speak the same words. It was Jean that had to lock Hermione away to dwell only in her mind. But it was Hermione who realized that maybe, just maybe, she really was going a bit mental.


	5. You Keep On Surprising Me

She stood on a hill in Wiltshire that overlooked the Malfoy Manor for almost an hour, just looking at the house that was otherwise invisible to Muggles. The last time she had seen the Manor was when the Snatchers had taken them prisoner there. Her last memories of the place were being tortured. She would never admit it to anyone, not even Harry if he were here right now, but the scars from that night hurt her still. She still woke up from agonizing dreams that felt all too real. How was she supposed to go in there now? How was she supposed to step into that place?

She knew _why_ she had to. Harry was counting on her. Wherever he was, he was counting on her to bring him back. Malfoy had been very insistent. She knew if she did not go, he would hunt her down, and Merlin only knew what he would find then. No, she could not take that chance. She had promised Harry, she had given him her word that she would do whatever she had to to survive. This was just another sacrifice she would have to make.

She took a deep breath and started walking down the hill towards the Manor. Each step felt harder than the last, each foot forward send a jolt of fear shaking through her body. She forced herself forward at each moment of hesitation because she knew this was what she had to do. She felt a barrier stop her by the gate and remembered the word he had told her. "Narcissa," she whispered and immediately, she felt the barrier lift. Taking another deep breath, she walked through the gate.

Five feet into the grounds she was surrounded. She clutched her wand in her hand, terror taking over her body. Had it been a trap? Had he known all along that she was Hermione Granger, not Jean Wyler as she said? "State your business, witch," one of the large men said. They reminded her of the Snatchers and closed her eyes at the memory. It dawned on her that they did not know who she was. It really wasn't a trap – yet.

"I'm here to see Draco Malfoy," she said quietly, hoping her voice sounded stronger than she felt.

"And what business do you have with Mr. Malfoy?" another of the men asked.

"I – I don't," she stammered. "He asked to see me."

"Alright, well don't try any funny business," the first one said. He smirked at her, his eyes traveling down her body. "Mr. Malfoy is powerful."

"Yes," she said as they parted to allow her to pass. She tried her hardest not to run the other way, and somehow she managed to walk seemingly calmly to the door of the Manor. She sighed, looking back. Was it too late to leave? She had a feeling Malfoy already knew she was here. His Snatchers had. There had to be some kind of device to tell him. She turned back and raised her hand to knock but it opened before she touched it.

"Miss Wyler," a house elf said. "Master Malfoy be expecting you. I is Dinky. Come, I will take you to him."

"Er thank you," she said, feeling pity for the house elf. He sounded almost happy, but he couldn't be. He was a slave. Still, she knew the Malfoys employed them, and she would have to be careful. Hermione Granger was an advocate for the rights of house elves. Jean Wyler was not.

Dinky led her through the long corridors. It was the same as she remembered it, and that made her fear grow. Still, she bit her lip to stop the scream that was building inside her throat. It wasn't until they passed the room, where they had been held last time they were here, where she was tortured that she made a sound. Still, she quieted the scream into a low squeak. She could feel the scars from that night as she looked into the dark room. There, by the table she had been cursed by the mental Bellatrix Lestrange, and there by the fireplace she had been threatened to be given to Greyback. She didn't even notice that they had stopped moving until she heard someone speak behind her. "Appreciate antiquity, do you?"

She gasped as she turned to see Draco Malfoy standing not too far behind her.

"Master, I is sorry," Dinky fell at his feet. "I was bringing her to you, as you said, but we stopped. I is so sorry, so sorry."

"Its fine, Dinky," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "You can go now. I can take it from here."

The house elf stood, bowing slightly before Apparating away. Hermione held her breath waiting for him to speak. He did not say anything at first. He just stared at her, his expression calculating as his gaze wandered over her. She fought back the blush in her cheeks as his eyes wandered lowered, remembering how he had kissed her. "You actually came," was his only response.

"I- I did."

He smirked and took a sip of the drink he was nursing. "It's surprising," he said simply before turning and walking down the corridor.

She knew she was too follow him and went quickly behind him, leaving the room far behind her. "Was I not really supposed to come?" she asked when she caught up to him, one step behind.

"No, you were," he chuckled darkly. "I just imagined you wouldn't and I'd have to come after you then."

He was joking, she knew, but there was also truth in his words. He would have come to find her. She was admittedly glad she had decided to come then. She knew how dangerous it could be to have Draco Malfoy use all his resources to figure out who and where she was. He might find something else out.

They walked into his study and she bit back the gasp in her throat. The walls were filled with shelves of books. There were two arm chairs near a flaming fireplace, and a large mahogany desk near the back overlooking the whole room. That was not all that surprised her though. What had her gasping was the contrast of this room to the rest of the house. The back wall behind his desk was all windowed, and it was so light in here. She had expected it to be dark, like she was used to in this Manor, but it seemed he was surprising her just as much as she was him.

He sat down at the desk and gestured her to sit across from him. Timidly, she walked into the light and sat down in the chair. She waited quietly for him to speak, to tell her why he wanted her here.

He waved his wand and a cup of whatever he was drinking flew to her. Brandy, she noticed when she politely took a sip. She did not drink usually, but she knew she would have to right now. Still, it helped calm her nerves, though the fear did not go away.

"So I suppose," he said finally, "you're wondering why I asked you here."

She nodded and took another sip of the bitter liquid.

"See, Jean," he said, smirking now. "I know who you are." He watched her response. Luckily, she kept her expression calm. "I know you fought for the light. I know that means you must be in hiding right now, though you _are_ a witch. You would not have been able to pass through the gate if you were not."

She still did not speak, wanting to know everything before she said anything. She wanted to know how much he had deduced, however right or wrong he was.

"You know what we do," he continued slowly. "You know we hunt all you light fighters. You know we have been able to catch many already. And you know you can't survive as you have been forever, not when the new order is obviously here to stay and growing stronger every moment."

"So what do you want from me?" she asked quietly when he didn't speak to allow her to respond.

"Well, you know who I am," he smirked. "And I am here to say that I can protect you from capture. I can keep you safe."

This surprised her. This was not the direction she had expected it to go at all. She had played many scenarios through her mind before coming here today, and none of them included those words. "Why?"

He looked at her for a long time, assessing her tone and expression. "I'm not a martyr," he said finally, amused. A smirk tugged at his lips. "I'm not saying I'll just stop everyone from coming after you for free."

"What do you want then?" she asked slowly.

The smirk came to his lips as he took a sip of his brandy. He stood and came across the desk in front of her, leaning back against it while looking down on her. "It's really quite simple, Jean. You come live here. You come be my servant," he said sardonically, "and you will have my protection."

"You want me to clean a few dishes and fluff your pillows, and you'll keep me alive?" she asked, her tone just as sardonic. Was he being serious now? _This_definitely was the furthest thing from her mind, and the possibilities she had come up with.

He laughed. "No. I have house elves for that."

"Then what would I be doing?" she asked slowly.

He smirked and leaned down to take her hand, bringing it up to his lips. He placed a light kiss on her skin. "I only need women for one thing, Jean."

She gasped, fighting the urge to pull her hand out of his grasp. He wanted her to be his mistress? Was he mad? She was Hermione Granger. She had dignity. She had pride. She had standards. She was not some woman he could make his whore. All these things were at the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back, knowing he could not know any of that. He could not know, under any circumstances, that he had just suggested that _Hermione Granger_ come be his mistress.


	6. Eventful Negotiations

Hermione Granger had never been one to pace. She had always handled any situation, no matter how dire, with a calm mind. Now, she found, Jean Wyler was a pacer. For the last hour, since she had left the Malfoy Manor, she had been pacing her small apartment.

How could he honestly ask her that? How could he ask her, Hermione Granger, to do _that_? She was not some thing he could just buy or bribe. She was not some slag he could use for his pleasure. She was a war heroine. She was Harry Potter's best friend. She was Hermione Granger. But of course, she reminded herself, Draco Malfoy did not know any of that. To him, like to the rest of the world except for Ginny, Hermione Granger was long dead now. All he knew was Jean Wyler, who was very pretty, Jean Wyler, who had been a nobody, Jean Wyler who had been unfortunate enough to have a face she was sure no one would remember, Jean Wyler who had laid low and did anything to survive, Jean Wyler who had to survive so that she, Hermione Granger would be able to bring Harry back.

That was the key to everything. Hermione had sacrificed so much so that maybe one day order would be able to be restored again. Jean had sacrificed so much as well. She had given her death so that one day, Harry could return. Hermione stopped pacing and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Jean Wyler had sacrificed so much, but it was not enough. She took a deep breath as she grabbed her cloak. She had made her decision.

-  
Draco Malfoy was not pleased with his life. Sure he had ascended quickly in the Dark Lord's rank and was now a Lord both in his own right and by deed. And sure he could do anything he wanted or get anything or anyone he wanted. But he had realized long ago that in everything, his only goal, the only thing he believed in was self-preservation.

He was the last Malfoy. He was the only remaining link to the long legacy that had come before him. Still, he had decided long ago, in his 6th year at Hogwarts that the noble line would end with him. With his death so would end the line of the Malfoys and the Blacks. He would not subject any child of his own blood to go through the same turmoil that had plagued him since birth. He would not subject any woman he claimed to love through what he had seen his mother go through. No, his line and blood brought nobility and power, but it also brought death and misery. He knew it could not be allowed to continue.

He poured himself more firewhiskey and looked around his study. His choice for himself was a lonely one. He would be the first to admit that. He knew it was the right one, but still, righteousness did not mean happiness. He had grown up so much over the last year, though he was only 19. He had grown into a man when he was 16, and since then, his life had been one miserable day after another. He spent most of his at home with only the company of the house elves and his firewhiskey unless the Dark Lord was in need of his service. It still made Draco sick to his stomach when he thought of the things he had had to do, and the _thing_ he was serving. But after the end of the war, Draco had forced himself not to care, or at least pretended to. At night, he still remembered then, the faces of the Muggleborns and Muggles and traitors, his victims. He remembered how the light when out of their eyes when he was done with them, and how powerful his father had told him he would feel, though he only felt weakness.

He still didn't usually offer protection for his own pleasure. There was just something about that Jean though. There was something in her eyes that reminded him of someone. He couldn't figure out who it was, but it was someone he had known. And it was that something that had made him impulsive that day he first time he saw her and forced Theo to leave. It was that something that had made him kiss her. And it was that something that made him want more. He was not one to casually proposition witches as he had done her. She had left almost immediately after his request, though they both knew it was more than that. He may have been sick to his stomach because of his actions, but he had not risen so high up in the Dark Lord's ranks because he dallied around. He would serve the egotistic hypocritical bigot to perfection. And that, of course, meant hunting down the pretty girl if he had to.

He was nursing his fourth firewhiskey when he heard the knock on his door. "Enter," he called out. One of his house elves, Jinky came into the study. "Miss Wyler is here see Master Malfoy."

He smirked. He had known she would come back, but he was surprised that it had been so quickly. "Show her in." The house elf bowed and disappeared from the room. He sat back in his chair as he waited for her. He finished off his drink and took another goblet, pouring them both some of his solace drink.

-

Hermione took a deep breath as the house elf led her through the Manor again. She had once prayed that she would never have to come here again, long ago when they had barely escaped with their lives. And now, in one day, she had willingly returned twice. She knew there was no other choice, that this was the only way to save herself and thusly Harry, but still, she wished it was different. These dark halls held too much despair for her, too many memories she had had tried to forget. Still, she had realized a few minutes ago that this was perfect. She could hear all news of Death Eater activity from here and know when they were showing any weakness. Then she could go bring Harry back.

The house elf bowed outside the study and she nodded at it, before knocking on the door. She heard a booming "Enter," and wondered silently when even Draco Malfoy's voice started holding so much power. She opened it and stepped inside. The door shut behind her and she jumped slightly at the sound. He was sitting across the room behind his desk, drinking what looked like firewhiskey. She forced herself forward and met his eyes. "You wanted an answer to your question?"

He sat forward slightly and waved his hand for her to sit across from him. "Yes, and do you have my answer?"

She silently made her way to the chair and sat down, taking a deep breath. "Yes."

He smirked at her, offering hr a glass as his gaze turned amused. "Yes is the answer or yes you have an answer."

She gladly took the drink and took a long sip before answering. "Yes is the answer."

He sat back, smirking widely. "And a wise one at that."

She winced. She had known he would do something if she had said no or never turned up. He would hunt her down and kill her or turn her over to the Dark Lord. In the relief she saw in his face, she knew either of those options would have been completely plausible."I have some conditions though."

The smirk disappeared as he peered over at her. "I was not aware that you were in a position to make conditions."

"Yes, well I'm going to make them," she said simply. Jean Wyler was shy and timid, but Hermione Granger was not. "Seeing as this is something you really want to happen since you didn't turn me in already, I think you'll agree to them."

His eyes narrowed as he reevaluated her. "Name your terms."

She nodded once, recognizing the demanding tone in his voice. He was clearly not used to being told what to do. She wondered who besides Voldemort and his deceased parents had ever told him what to do. "I want your word that you will not back out of our deal at any time."

"I never break an oath," he said slowly. "And my word is my oath."

She nodded. "You will not pass me around to your Death Eater friends. I am not a piece of property."

He smirked again. "I do not like sharing anyway."

"One month," she said. "One month and I will not try to leave or escape or anything. I will do as you say. But after that, if I choose to leave, you will not follow."

His eyes narrowed as the smirk disappeared from his face. "Six months."

She blinked in shock. That was the one condition she was sure he would not accept. Six months… she could do that. And of course, if she thought it the perfect time for her plan before that, then she could escape, bring Harry back and that would be the end of it. "Six months," she repeated.

"Are those all the conditions?" he asked sardonically.

"Yes," she said. "What would you like me to do?"

He looked at her for a long moment before he stood and walked around the desk. Taking her drink from her hand, he stood her up to face him. He sighed. "I was hoping you'd say that."

She remained silent as he slowly undid her cloak, his eyes boring into hers the whole time. He slowly pulled it off her shoulders, and his eyes fleeted over her body for just a second before once again they stared into hers. His fingers came up to her shoulders, and slowly, he trailed them down her skin, a smirk on his lips. "You'll like this – assignment," he said sardonically before leaning down to kiss her.

She loosened herself and forced herself not to pull away or hit him, as Hermione Granger would have done. After all, she was not Hermione Granger right now. She was Jean Wyler, and Jean Wyler enjoyed the kiss. It was slow and demanding. She gasped as she felt his tongue trail along her bottom lip. She hadn't even realized that he had unbuttoned her top until there was a knock on the door. With a sigh, he pulled away, though his touch lingered on her. She hated that her body shivered at the loss of contact. "Enter," he called out.

The house elf that had escorted her in opened the door. "Masters Zabini and Nott is here to see Master Malfoy."

He sighed and looked down at her for a moment longer before stepping back. "I will be back," he said to her before walking away and following the house elf.

She waited until the study door was closed to fall down in the chair. What exactly had she agreed to?


	7. Six Feet Under But No One Seems To Hear

She waited in her chair, just looking down at the rug, trying to decide if this was the right thing to do. Harry would kill her if he were still alive. Ron would be furious. He would probably never talk to her again, if he were alive. But they weren't, she reasoned with herself. They were dead and the only way to bring Harry back was to survive. Hermione liked to think of herself as practical, and she knew this was the more practical of her options. She had a feeling that if she had turned him down, Draco Malfoy would hunt her down. That was his job after all, and if the rumors were correct as she suspected they were, he was quite good at his job.

After she had sat there for what felt like hours, she decided he would still be a while. She tried not to think of what he was doing, or who he might have in his custody. Jean had been forced to turn a blind eye to many things, and this was one of them. She couldn't bring attention to herself. She got out of the chair and walked over to the bookshelves. One whole wall was filled with hundreds of books. She tried to remember the last time she had actually read a book. Hermione Granger had loved books, and she knew that was such a characteristic feature of hers. When she had taken on her new life, she had decided many things about her would have to change. And one of them was reading. Jean Wyler hated reading. Still, she couldn't stop herself from running her finger over the bindings, sighing as she recalled the names. She had read many of them already. She knew if Ron and Harry were here they'd laugh at her for her _light reading_. She sighed, closing her eyes and picturing them with her. It was something she did often, imagining them there, keeping her company.

Even now, she could almost see them there, Harry sitting on the table and Ron lounging about in Malfoy's chair. "Haven't you read all of these already, Mione?" Harry would ask.

"Probably half a dozen times each," Ron would joke.

She smiled to herself. "You two know I love reading," she whispered to herself.

"How do you even hold that much knowledge in your head?" Ron might ask.

"Oh you know, Ron," Harry would have stuck up for her. "She has a bigger brain than both of us put together."

She laughed lightly to herself. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, her face turning somber. "I wish all this useless knowledge could have somehow saved you both."

She imagined Harry getting up and walking over to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "You did save us, Mione. You saved us time and time again," he would remind her.

"Yeah," Ron would have probably leaned forward in the chair, staring intently at her. "And you're still going to save Harry."

She sighed, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes. Every time she imagined them with her, this happened. They came to this point. They came to her failure, to the end. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you too."

Ron shrugged in her mind, smiling. "I'm okay, Hermione," the image assured her as she always imagined it to. "Really, I am."

She closed her eyes then, wiping the tears away. No, she couldn't do this to herself anymore. Every time they were there, this happened. She needed some reassurance that Ron wouldn't hate her if he knew what was going to happen. She needed to know he didn't think she was picking Harry over him. She loved them both, though in different ways. With Harry, it was a friendly love, the love you would have for your best friend or your brother. But with Ron, it was – stronger. She didn't think of him as a brother. She thought of him as more. It was an easy love. He frustrated her to the point that she had two options, hate him or love him. She had chosen to love him. And now he was gone forever. No matter what she did, he would never come back. There was no spell to bring back the dead. No spell, except the one she would bring Harry back with. It was a dark magic, a forbidden one, and it had to be started before the person was dead. It had been too late for Ron. She had spent some time after the battle to research it in depth. It had only been successfully accomplished four times in history, successful meaning both parties lived. Most of the time, the spell caster would lose his or her life. She hoped she was strong enough to survive, but she knew it didn't matter. She would gladly give up her life for Harry's. She had made that decision the day they had decided to go hunt for the horcruxes together at the end of their sixth year. She had prayed it would never come to that, but she knew that if the time came, she would be ready.

"Do you like books?" his voice came from behind her.

She jumped, turning quickly. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't heard him come back in. She gasped when she saw him. He was covered his ash, and he had a cut on his cheek. He took off his robe and put it on the rack by the door. He smirked slightly, moving forward with a limp. She wondered silently what had happened, and prayed whoever he was after was okay. She knew they must have been one of the Order or an acquaintance if they had fought back vigorously enough for Malfoy to have left like this. "I didn't get a chance to Scourgify myself, I apologize," he said, taking out his wand. He quickly cast the spell on himself so the dust was gone and walked over to his desk, pulling out a small vial. "Dittany," he explained as he uncorked it and administered it to his cut. Once he looked as good as new he smiled over at her, taking a gulp of the drink he had left on the table.

She remained silent as he walked back over to her, glass still in hand. "I hope you haven't been too bored waiting here for me. Please feel free to come take any of these books whenever you wish."

"That's okay," she said, keeping her eyes on his chest. "I don't like reading much."

She could feel his gaze as his free hand moved to her chin and tilted her head up. "I did not mean to stay away from you and this for so long."

"I-it's alright," she stammered quietly. She couldn't believe she was stammering to _Draco Malfoy_. What's more is that she could not believe that he was apologizing to her. Granted, he was not actually apologizing and it was definitely not to _her_, but she heard the apologetic tone in his voice as he spoke to her.

"So where were we?" He leaned down and claimed her lips in a chaste kiss. It was like he was asking for permission, but even that small kiss sent shivers down her spine. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, and that seemed to be the invitation he needed. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, knowing he'd easily be able to carry her as he deepened the kiss. His tongue darted across her bottom lip, begging for entrance. She didn't even notice that they were moving until he placed her down on his desk. He pulled away slightly, still tangled in her arms and legs, and smirked down at her. He pushed her hair out of her face before trailing his finger down the side of her face to her neck and lower still to her button. "You're beautiful," he whispered as he undid the top one. He leaned down for another kiss, this time immediately gaining access to her mouth and exploring every part of it with his tongue. He undid the rest of her buttons while keeps his lips locked to hers. He reached up and pulled her shirt off her shoulders, kissing the skin as it left her body.

His lips moved to her neck as one of his hands took hers and put it on his chest. He moved their joined hands down his strong chest to his pants. "See what you do to me?" he whispered against her neck, nipping at the skin. Their hands grasped his member and he took a sharp breath. "Just the thought of you, just imagining how it will be," he guided her hand for a few minutes, showing her just how to touch him. He let go then, letting her go at it alone, and moaned against her neck.

He moved his hands back up to take her breasts in his hands as his lips moved back to claim her own. His gently thumbed her nipples, teasing them to harden. He pulled back, a small smirk on his lips as he leaned down to take one in his mouth, his hand still tweaking the other. She moaned when he lightly pulled her pebbled nipple with his teeth. She felt the moisture pool between her legs. Her hand was still stroking him and she moved the other to grasp his shoulder. He moved onto the other one with his mouth while he pulled them down, wrapping one arm around her waist to pull her up as he pulled them down.

She felt herself tighten in hesitation and he must have felt it to, because he moved back up to kiss her lips. What was she doing? No, this wasn't her. This was Jean Wyler, not Hermione Granger. This was her survival. She forced herself to loosen and only then did he release her lips to move back to her neck. He shoved her knickers aside and ran his finger along her slit. "Already wet, love?" he smirked against her skin. "But not wet enough for me yet." She moaned as his thumb flicked her clit. He pulled back and brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them off. He closed his eyes and moaned. She gasped as she watched him, feeling the heat grow between her legs.

He kissed her lightly before smirking and dropping to his names. "Spread your legs for me, love." His hands gripped her thighs and pulled them wider apart. He smirked up at her as he swiped his finger through her slit.

"What – what are you doing?" she whispered, biting her lip as her eyes grew wide.

"Shh, you'll enjoy this, I promise." He swiped his tongue over her slit now, and she shivered, a soft moan escaping her lips. It was so erotic, watching him taste her. She was no virgin, but she was not very experienced. She had never had a man taste her there. There had never been much time for her to explore these things. And she could tell that he was no amateur. He took her clit into his mouth and she leaned her hands back on the desk, closing her eyes. She instinctively tried to close her legs to him but he held her firm.

"Merlin," she moaned as he pushed a finger into her while his tongue still rolled around her swollen nub. He continued his ministrations and elicited moan after moan from her. She moved her hands to his hair and found it was soft. "Fuck," she breathed as he switched his ministrations. His tongue now delved further into her, and his thumb drew lazy circles over her clit. He pushed her closer and closer to the edge and she felt heat steer through her body as she finally found her release. He lapped up her juices and stood then, claiming his lips with her own. Daringly, she ran her tongue over his bottom lip and moaned as she tasted her arousal on him.

Too soon, he pulled away, though his eyes locked with her. He gently pushed her hair out of her face and stepped closer between her legs, one of his hands moving down to stroke himself a few times as he edged closer to her center. "Have you been…" he started to ask as the head of his cock teased her folds.

"Yes," she said, gripping his shoulders as a smirk formed on his lips.

"Good," he said. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at her, whispering what she knew was probably a contraceptive spell before he pushed himself into her, filling her to the hilt. "Fuck," he moaned as he grabbed her hips. "You're so tight."

She closed her eyes and bit her lip. She felt him kiss her lightly. "Open your eyes." She opened them and found his gaze directed on her so intently. She shivered at the contact. He started moving slowly, his eyes on her the whole time. "That's it," he encouraged. "Watch me fuck you."

He kissed her again before resting his forehead against hers. His thrusts continued faster and harder every time. She was writhing under him, her body reaching its peak again. She knew this was wrong. She knew Harry would be furious if he knew. But at this moment, as she felt her pleasure take over her again, she didn't care. She closed her eyes, biting her lip to keep from moaning. "Fuck," he breathed, as his thrusts became sloppy. He laid his forehead on her shoulder, breathing heavily on her skin. She felt him explode inside of her.

Slowly, he pulled out of her and reached behind her to grab his wand. He pointed it at her, and she tensed. It had all been a trick. God, how could she be so stupid? She had failed. She had failed Harry and the world, and herself. It was all over. He smirked slightly. "Relax, I'm not going to kill you," he said. "Scourgify!" He then cast the same spell on himself and picked up his robes from the ground. He brought her to her feet and put the robe on her. "Stay the night," he kissed her lightly, taking her hand as he started to lead her out of the study. It was not a request.

She was silent, just watching him with wide eyes as he led her up to his bedroom. How easy it had been to assume it was all over. How quickly the fear had frozen her to her very core. She realized with a cold thought that that as how her life would be for now, always wary, always fearful that each moment could be her last. She would always have to watch herself, always have to look behind her shoulder. Still, if this was the way to survive for Harry, she would have to do it. She had already given up so much for this mission, already sacrificed everything in her power. She could handle this, both Hermione Granger, and Jean Wyler. They were both survivors.


	8. I'll Smile Even Through My Pain

When Hermione awoke the next morning, it took her more than a few minutes to remember where she was. It was not that she had been intoxicated or charmed, but the sheer thought of what she did and with who made it difficult for her to fathom. It hit her when she felt the soft silk sheets. These were not hers. These were not ones anyone but the highest ranking Death Eaters could afford now. These were Draco Malfoy's. She jolted up, holding the sheets to her naked body as the gravity of her decision set in.

She could see both Harry and Ron standing there, at the edge of the bed, shaking their heads in disappointment. She hadn't thought of either of them all night, something that had not happened since before the war started. She hadn't thought of them as she did all those dirty things with Malfoy, as she held onto the bedposts as he pounded in her from behind, as she arched her back with every release he brought her to, as he took her over and over again with stamina she did not know one could even possess. But now they were here. Now they were standing there, watching her, judging her, pitying her. She could see their pain, could feel their anger, even if it was all in her head. If they knew what she had had to do, they would never forgive her. She wouldn't forgive herself either, if the situations were reversed. She would look at herself in disgust. That's what she felt, she knew now. She felt disgusted in her own skin.

Hermione needed to get out of here, to recollect herself away from this house, away from the memories etched into these walls, away from her cowardice. She got out of the bed and looked around for her clothes. In annoyance, she remembered she had left them downstairs in the study, but there was a cloak, on the chair by the bed. She had just put it on when the bathroom door opened. There went her quick escape.

Draco Malfoy came out, freshly showered, in just a towel. He saw she was up and smiled, his eyes falling disappointedly at the robes. "I rather prefer you without those," he smirked as he took off the towel and went to the large dresser across from the bed, though not before seeing the blush that had crept into her cheeks. He chuckled. "I believe you're more than acquainted enough."

She didn't say anything, and instead, looked up at his face. She tried not to let her eyes wander, though, much to her disappointment, her self-control was waning. Draco Malfoy had certainly been blessed. She remembered how all of those muscles had felt against her skin last night and heat once again gathered between her legs. She looked away, mortified with herself.

He walked over to her then, now sporting black pants, and raised her chin to look into her eyes. He was smirking slightly as he leaned down and kissed her gently. She winced as she felt discomfort, and wondered how her _lips_ had gotten so bruised. He pulled back when he felt her tense and his thumb gently trailed her bottom lip. With a sigh, he let go of her altogether. "I have some business that will pull me away all day," he said finally. "You are welcome to anything in the Manor. Just call for one of the house elves and they will take you were you want to go."

"Anywhere?" she was brave enough to ask, though she forced herself to bite her tongue about the house elves. Hermione Granger was an advocate of house elves, Hermione Granger cared if they got paid. Jean Wyler was not. Jean Wyler could not afford to care. In fact, Jean Wyler did not care at all.

He smirked slightly. "There are some restrictions, naturally."

"Naturally."

He chuckled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a necklace. "For you," he said, holding it out for her. Hermione felt the color drain from her face as she saw it. It was beautiful, of course, silver with diamonds. Any other girl would have let him have her for the rest of her days if he kept showering her with gifts like that. But the sight of it made her want to cry. It was Ginny's.

Hermione had been there when Harry had picked it out for her. She had been the one to choose it. She knew Ginny would love it, and the redhead did. When she, Harry, and Ron were on the run, Harry would ask her sometimes if Ginny was still wearing it, if she was holding it and remembering him.

Draco obviously did not understand her repulse at the ornament in his hand, "You don't like it?" He raised an eyebrow, and she wondered if he knew where the necklace had come from, if he knew who had worn it the last time she saw her, if he knew what that necklace meant, then and now.

"Where did you get that?" she asked quietly, not moving to take it from him. She didn't want it. She didn't want to even see it. She bit her lip to stop herself from screaming. How? Ginny had been wearing it the last time she saw her. She had clutched it when she begged Hermione to leave England with her. Hermione knew she would never willingly part with it. She knew it would have to be snatched from her cold, dead body. She bit her lip harder until she tasted blood.

He looked at her calculatingly. "I didn't steal it, if that's what you're asking," he said slowly. "I got it when I went out yesterday."

"From where?" she asked again. Had he seen Ginny? Did he have news?

"Does it matter?" he rolled his eyes. He was getting aggravated, she knew. He was obviously not used to girls being squeamish about his gifts. He had money, of course, and he could shower anyone he wanted with anything _they _wanted. "I got it at the bloody market."

She didn't say anything, her eyes never moving from it. The market? Did that mean Ginny was still alive? Had she sold it or was it taken from her? She needed to know, but there was no way to ask him. He would know then and all would be lost. She took a deep breath and forced herself to smile at him, though she knew it looked fake; it felt fake. It felt like she was betraying her best friend. It felt like she had been the one to kill Ginny. Maybe if they had left together, maybe if she could have just forgotten everything, just forgotten Harry, maybe she could have helped Ginny, if she was dead. But she forced herself to remember that Harry was what was important. More than her; more than Ginny; more than the sick feeling resting in the pit of her stomach. If Ginny had to be sacrificed so Harry could come back, so be it. "It's lovely, thank you," she said quietly. "You didn't have to get me anything though." And she really wished he hadn't.

He smiled, clearly appeased. He moved around to her back and slipped the necklace on, kissing the back of her neck when he closed the clasp. "I know I didn't, but I wanted to. After all, you _are_ technically mine, and everything that is mine must be the best. That means you must have the best."

She winced as she knew his words were true. For six months, she was his. For six months, she would have to endure these gifts, and wonder which of her friends had to die for her to get such lovely things, wonder who'd been killed so he could come back to his Manor and cause the feelings he had caused in her the night before. She thought back to how much she had liked it, how she had let herself like it, how she had begged for more and she wanted to vomit. This was the price she had to pay. This was the price she had agreed to pay, to know her friends and allies were dying while she lived here relatively comfortably, while she survived and survived well, while she was fucking the enemy. She had to know she was betraying the people who had stood by her and by Harry. And for the first time in over eight years, since the day she met Harry, she wondered if he was worth it.

"Thank you," she whispered, turning around to face him. "It's beautiful."

He smiled down at her before stealing one more kiss and walking back to his dresser to get ready. "As I was saying," he continued, as she sat on the bed, watching him button his shirt. He looked at her through the mirror, and smirked slightly, meeting her eyes. "I won't be back till evening but Dinky has been assigned to be at your beck and call. Just call her if you need anything."

She nodded, wondering what he was going to do, if he was going to be fighting anyone, if he was going to eventually step over another ally's body, if he was even going to come back. Maybe today, today would be the day the light fighters won, maybe today Voldemort and his followers would be defeated and she could go get Harry and they could start rebuilding. She sighed as she playing with the sheets between her fingers. Of course Harry was worth it. He was the only one who could save them. He was the only one who could defeat them, the only one who could make her sacrifices mean something. He was their light. He would be their savior. They fought because of him. They fought because of the hope he gave them. They resisted because they knew that was what he would want if he hadn't been killed. They didn't know, of course, that she was going to bring him back and yet they still fought. They fought because, though he was gone, his message, his mission, his hope did not die with him. He was their leader even in death. Was he worth it, she asked herself again. Yes, he was. He was worth her broken soul. He was worth her sacrifices. He was worth _their_ sacrifices. He was worth their hope. He was worth their deaths. He was worth it all.


	9. The Killer In Me

**DISCLAIMER: Any similarities to Lady of Clunn's Uncoffined is purely coincidental!**

**The Killer in Me**

Hermione did not want to go back. She had been pacing her little apartment for what felt like hours while she weighed her options. What if she didn't go back? What if she just went to the Ministry, snuck into the Department of Ministries, and brought Harry back now? They could both go into hiding till it was time to start the fight again. The Order was still fighting, or at least what was left of it, though they weren't out in the open with it. From what she had heard, they were more subtle with their attacks now, though they had not cast a devastating blow to the other side since the war. But she had heard enough to know that they still fought, that some still carried the torch with them, the torch of hope, Harry's torch. Maybe she and Harry could find them together.

Yet, however much she wanted it, however much she wanted to run and never look back, she knew she couldn't, not yet. The Dark side was too strong, and she did not yet know their weakness. What would she tell Harry when she brought him back? _I brought you back because I was scared of being alone? I brought you back because I didn't want to be Draco Malfoy's whore? _No, she knew she couldn't tell him either of those things. She couldn't tell him she had been too weak, that she had failed him. And that was if she even succeeded in surviving after she said the spell. Too many things could go wrong. She was not ready yet. She was not strong enough to jump back into war. She was not strong enough to face Harry after what she had done.

That left only one option. She would have to go back. But she would not do so idly. She would find out what she could. Yes, that would appease Harry. That would make up for her ultimate betrayal. After all, it was no secret that Draco Malfoy was now one of _His_ best lieutenants, now that his father and mental aunt had been killed. He was trusted by many. She could use this to her advantage, she reasoned. She could find out as much information as she could and then go save Harry. Then she would have the information they needed to start the next war and win it. Yes, that was what she would do now.

She grabbed her cloak and left the apartment, walking quickly under the Invisibility Cloak to the Apparation point. She arrived inside the wards of the Manor this time, by the door, now that she was allowed to be here, now that she was _supposed_ to be here. She went to knock on the door, but it opened of its own accord. She sighed and stepped into the place that had been the source of her nightmares for a year now. She made her way to his study.

She knew he was in there before she even heard his voice. She recoiled as she heard the anger in it, though not even directed at her. That was when she knew he was not alone. She paused, trying to listen.

"I don't believe those were his orders," he growled. "You know what he'll do if we fail."

"It's not as if he'd blame you," another voice came resentfully. Hermione recognized it as Theodore Nott. "He idolizes you."

"He doesn't care for anyone but himself," Draco retorted.

"Careful, Draco," a third voice came. This one was calm, too calm. Hermione immediately knew it was Blaise Zabini, the epitome of cool rhetoric. "You're treading dangerous waters."

"No, I'm not, Blaise. I'm just saying that I'd rather not be tortured under the Cruciatus if I can help it, and if we don't do exactly as the Dark Lord wants, that is exactly what will happen, to all of us. Yes Nott, even me."

"Are you so sure it will fail?" Nott spoke again, anger brimming in his voice. "We're stronger than they are. We can take them. There's only a few of them from the reports. We'd crush them, even just the three of us."

"There may only be a few, but they've eluded us _all_ for this long. You really think they won't be prepared for something like this? I wouldn't be surprised if they called the rest of the pitiful excuse for the Order to their defense as soon as we set off what are sure to be alarms."

"We can handle the Order," Nott growled. She gasped before she could stop herself. What were they going to do? They _could_ crush the Order if they wanted to. If Draco wasn't for that diversion from the plan, what the Dark Lord had asked them to do must be far worse. She pressed herself closer to the door to try to hear more.

"Theo, Draco is right," Blaise spoke finally. "We cannot handle them alone. We stick to the plan. As it is, this discussion is over. Draco, you have a visitor."

She stepped back from the door quickly, cursing herself for getting caught. "Enter," Draco's voice came from within. She took a deep breath and opened the door, prepared for the worst. If Blaise had heard her outside, did he know how much she had heard? She repressed a shudder at the thought of what they would do to her if she were truly caught.

As it were, she seemed safe. Draco relaxed slightly when he saw her, though the recent events cautioned him not to completely let his guard down. Nott was glaring at her, and Blaise watched her, clearly amused. "Ah, Jean, I was wondering where you had snuck of to," Draco stood and fastened the front of his robes. "Zabini, Nott, you know what to do. Owl me when you're ready." It was a clear dismissal that both men got, for they stood quickly. Nott pushed past her, his face still distorted in anger. Blaise, however, nodded at Draco and smirked at her when he passed. Within seconds, she was left alone with Malfoy.

She waited timidly for him to accuse her of listening, for him to punish her for it. Instead he just sighed and went to pour himself a drink. "You were debating whether you should come back," he said with his back to her. It was not a question, and she was not stupid enough to say anything back to him. "I'm glad you did."

The revelation surprised her. She hid it by changing the subject quickly. "I'm sorry I interrupted."

"I'm not," he turned and smirked at her, two glasses in his hand. He handed one to her and went back to sit at his desk. "Nott has a bad habit of thinking himself more talented than he actually is."

It was a test, she knew. He was trying to find out how much she had heard. She was not out of the clearing just yet. But she was still Hermione Granger, and she could hear the implication a mile away. Of course, Hermione Granger also passed every test she had ever been given. "Nott was the angry one right? I remember him from the market that day. He didn't seem pleased."

He smirked slightly and she knew she had passed. "I'd rather not discuss him anymore." He stood, finishing off his drink in a single gulp. He walked over to her, taking her glass and putting them both down on the desk. He turned to her then, a small smirk still on his face as he took her arm and pulled her to him. "I can think of quite a few things I'd rather be doing with my time, and surprisingly, they all have to do with you." He leaned down and kissed her. She could taste the firewhiskey on his lips but she ignored it as his tongue lightly touched hers. She let him deepen the kiss as she put her hands on his shoulders. This was the one good thing about this, about her betrayal. Draco Malfoy was a remarkable kisser. She knew now why every girl in their year at Hogwarts wanted nothing more than to get into this man's bed. And she felt disgusted.

He seemed to feel her hesitation because he released her lips and looked down at her, his eyes hooded with lust. "Let's go upstairs," he suggested. She only nodded, not trusting her voice. He took her hand and led her out of the study and up the stairs to his room.

In one fluid moment, he had closed the door behind them and pressed her against it, his lips and body on hers. She was completely caught off guard and gasped for breath when he trailed his kissed down her jaw to her neck. "I've thought about this all day," he grinded his hips against her. She could feel his need already, and with his actions, she was joining him quickly. "About how you felt around me, about how I wanted nothing more than to stick my cock into your tight little cunt again."

She moaned as he nipped at her skin. She had gripped his shoulders to steady herself and now she moved them to his hair, trying to push him further into her. He moved back up to connect their lips again as he undid her robes, his hands roaming over her skin, etching closer and closer down to where she needed to feel him. Hermione bit her lip as he roughly pulled her knickers aside and touched her flesh. He moved back to watch her expression as he pushed one finger deep into her. "Oh God," she whimpered as he pushed in another. Heat had taken over her, expelling all thoughts of the Order and Harry from her mind. The only thing she could concentrate on now was having him closer, having him touch her everywhere. Her hands slid across his chest, trying to feel as much of him as she could. He captured her lips again in a crushing kiss as he thrust another finger into her, curling them as he pushed into her faster. She grinded against the intrusion and heard a moan erupt from his lips.

She threw her head back as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. She had to grip his arms again to balance herself. She was so close now, so close. Fire spread through her, all pivoting to one point. And when he added another finger into her core, he connected her lips again to swallow her moan as she came. She pushed him back then, when she had finally collected her mind again, her hands going straight for his belt. She needed to feel more of him, to feel him inside her, to feel him everywhere. He let her take off the restraining material and in a second, he was on her again. In one thrust, he pushed himself into her to the hilt. They both moaned at the feeling. He stood still as he pushed her harder between the wall and him, and picked her legs up to wrap them around his waist.

With a kiss, he pulled himself out so that only the tip of him was in her and then roughly thrust himself back in. She whimpered as she closed her eyes at the feeling. Heat and fire and pain and pleasure all shot through her body, silently begging him for one more, always one more. And he gladly obliged, continuing this motion over and over again, going faster with each thrust. She was screaming now, so taken away with the feeling of his cock in her, of the heat that surrounded them, of his body against hers. His lips moved to her neck as his thrusts became harder, and she had to bite her lip to quiet herself. She could feel him inside of her, every ridge, every inch of him. And it was fucking heaven. Before Draco Malfoy she had never known this feeling. No one had ever filled her so perfectly. No one had her feeling she would tear in half, and loving it.

He was bringing her closer and closer to the edge with every thrust. She was so close, just there, when he slowed. In, out, in out. It was agonizing, and yet, she wanted more. "Please," she moaned when he smirked slightly, obviously knowing what he was doing to her. "I – I need more. Please."

He kissed her as he wrapped his arms around her and picked her up, his cock still buried deep within her. He carried her over to the bed and with a whimper, she felt him pull out of her. "Turn around," he caressed her cheek.

He pulled her onto all fours as he pushed his fingers into her again, thrusting them a few times before he moved closer and pushed his cock back into her slick heat. She moaned as he grabbed her hips and started pounding into her again. She pressed her face to his bed, trying to hold herself at the edge. She wanted to revel in this feeling for as long as possible. She never wanted it to end. But as his thrusts became sloppy, she knew she would not last much longer. He reached down and took her clit between his fingers, twisting it as he continued his speed. She couldn't hold on anymore, and came hard with a long moan. He stilled then, and she felt him empty himself into her.

After he had spent himself in her, he collapsed next to her, sighing in content. His eyes were closed, but he grabbed her wrist. "Stay," he said quietly, and she settled onto the pillow next to him. He waved his wand over them both, cleansing them. Within moments, she heard his steady breathing and knew he was asleep.

But Hermione Granger could not sleep. She hated herself for losing control like that, and to Draco Malfoy of all people. She was Hermione Granger for Merlin's sake! She was the one always lecturing Harry and Ron on control, and here she was, ignoring her own advice. She had once been practical, putting reason and logic about all else. And now, she was a randy school girl giving into her emotions. But she could never let herself forget. He was still her enemy. Just before, he had been planning something, something deadly to so many of her friends, and yet, she had given herself over to him. She watched him for a few moments, thinking how peaceful he looked asleep, how vulnerable. She could end his life right here, right now. She could save so many lives.

Before she even knew what she was doing, she had grabbed his wand and transfigured a glass that was on the nightstand into a knife. She held it for a long moment in her hands, looking at it. It would be so easy. With one of Voldemort's main followers down, she could go get Harry right now. Voldemort would be too weak with such a major loss, and they could win. Finally, it could be over. Finally, all her sacrifices would be worth it, with just one action. She could save them all.

She pressed the knife to his neck, her eyes hard as she tried to do what she knew she must. But it was not so simple. She had never taken a life like this before. Oh she had taken lives before. The war had demanded such sacrifices. But not like this. Not while her opponent was down, not while he was sleeping. This was pure murder, of the most sinful kind. What separated her then from him?

"Do it," he whispered. She gasped as she saw his eyes had opened and he was staring at her coldly, not at all fazed by the knife so close to ending his life. "Do it. You can go then. You can be free. No one would know. It would be so easy. Just press down a bit harder. You know you want to. Do it and become like the rest of us."

The knife shook in her hands as his words settled over her. He was fearless in the face of Death. He knew she could so easily end his life, and he _didn't care. _He was encouraging her even. She saw his skin rip, blood trickling down his neck. If she pressed a little harder, she could end this. She could end it all. She just had to press down a little harder. But his last words hung over her like a death sentence. Was she like the rest of them? She had done many things she was not proud of, many things that haunted her every night. But was she like them? Was she a killer? Was she someone to strike when her opponent was down?

She didn't know that answers to any of the questions but the last. No, she could not kill him now, not when he could not fight back. No matter how easy it was or who he was or _what_ he was or what he had done, she could not take his life, not like this. If they had been in battle, maybe it would have been different. But he had essentially saved her. He knew she was their enemy, but he had given her a choice, one that had saved her life. She couldn't kill him now. She was too weak. She threw the knife away. It transfigured back into a cup as it hit the ground, and she backed away from him, jumping out of the bed, her eyes fearful. She waited in terror for his retaliation, and she hoped with all her heart that her weakness would not make her betray Harry one final time.


	10. Not Myself Tonight

Hermione Granger was not easily intimidated. Hermione Granger was not easily frightened. Hermione Granger was not easily pushed to cower in a corner, waiting for her certain death. It seemed, however, Jean Wyler was. Hermione had stopped wondering when exactly she had become this new person, this easily frightened person. Once, she had stood right beside Harry as he faced the unknown, ready for anything. Once, she has walked right into danger, knowing there might be no return. But now, she stood here, afraid of a man she could have once overpowered easily. She knew she could still if she wanted. If only she had her previous strength. If only she had her previous courage. But she did not. And she stood now, at the mercy of Draco Malfoy.

He was slow and deliberate as he got out of bed, still naked from before. He picked up his wand and the cup from the floor, silently transfiguring it back into a knife. And that was when she knew she would die. She had failed Harry. She had failed everyone. How could she have been so weak? How could she have lost every ounce of Hermione Granger from herself? He walked over to her as she backed away until she was pressed against the wall.

He was smirking, and she cursed herself for being so stupid. Of course he hadn't actually expected her to do it. He knew she would not be able to kill him, and it sickened her, that even he knew her weakness. He stopped in front of her, the smirk still on his face as his eyes held hers. "I must say I'm a little disappointed," he admitted as he twirled the knife in his hands.

She stood silently, knowing any words that came from her lips now would give her away to who she was. But then, was that a bad thing? So what if he knew she was Hermione Granger now? He was going to kill her anyway. Shouldn't she die as herself rather than the imposter she had become? Wasn't there enough of her left to want even that? But she knew what would happen if it was discovered that she was Hermione Granger. Her death would be drawn out. She would be tortured and raped and who knew what else. And, being who she had become now, she was too afraid of that.

He looked at her now, his expression hard and blank as he raised the knife. She flinched and closed her eyes, waiting for the end. But all she felt was the cool, sharp tip resting at the base of her neck. She opened her eyes and looked at him, an unspoken question in her eyes. _Why was she still alive?_ She had tried to kill him. He had given her protection, safety. He had given her a chance, and she had betrayed it. So why did he not just kill her? Though, she supposed, the chance was not yet gone. She remained still as stone as she looked up at him. He had been looking at the knife, but now his gaze moved back up to meet her own.

"I must say, for a moment, I wondered," he said softly. He was waiting for a response, she could tell. When she gave none, his expression hardened again. "Who are you?"

"J-Jean Wyler," she stammered out, her voice barely audible. She could still feel the cold metal pressing against her skin with no respite.

"And what are you doing here, Jean Wyler?" he asked icily.

"Nothing," she said after a long moment. "Nothing but what you asked me to."

"Funny, I don't recall asking you to hold a knife to my throat," he sneered.

"It was nothing," she said quickly. "It was stupid. I was being stupid."

"Yes it was," he agreed. "Let's see just how stupid it was." He slid the side of the knife over her skin, lower and lower. The cold metal left a trail of dread behind it. She tensed in fear, which seemed to please him. A small smirk tugged at his lips. "It would be so easy to kill you now," he whispered. "No one would miss you. No one would even know."

She looked at him, true fear in her eyes. She was about to die. She had failed. With a daunting thought, she thought how ironic it was that even in the face of her own death, she could think only of how she had failed Harry. Because he was what was important. Only him. So what if she died? She meant to later on anyway, _after_ she brought him back. And now she would not be able to. No one would because no one knew what she and Harry had done. No one knew what price she would have to pay.

"Are you afraid?"

"Yes."

He smirked and took away the knife, throwing it back onto his bed. When he turned to face her again, he stepped closer. "And now?"

"Yes."

"Good," he said, satisfied. Before she could even react, he reached up and smacked her across the face with the back of his hand. Her cheek burned in response, but she did not make a sound. She knew she was bleeding, had felt his fingernails scratch her skin. So it would not be a fast, easy death, it seemed. He would break her first. He would make her pay for her betrayal.

He reached behind her and grabbed her hair, pulling it back roughly. "You know who I am," he said menacingly. "You know what I'm capable of. And yet you were too weak. Think of the hundreds of people you could have saved. Think of the people you fought alongside at the battle. You could have helped them. But you did not."

She was being tested, she knew that immediately. Despite all her qualms of losing her identity, she was still Hermione Granger deep down. And Hermione Granger could smell a test from a hundred miles away. This time was no different. He was testing her to see just how he should punish her. Did that mean he would not kill her after all? She did not want to set him off if that was still an option. Instead, she decided to play along.

"I-I couldn't," she tried to look away but he pulled her hair again and made her look at him. "I'm not like them. I'm – not a k-killer."

"You must have known what I would do to you if I found out," he spoke quietly, though the edge was not gone from his voice. "You must have known I would not take you almost killing me lightly."

She did not answer this time, and somehow, she knew he did not expect her to. What _she_ did not expect was what happened next. It happened so suddenly, she didn't even have time to react. One moment she was staring into his platinum eyes, waiting for her death, and the next, he was on top of her, his lips crushing hers. It was not a sweet kiss. No, it was demanding, controlling. He was taking what he wanted from her, and she had no choice but to give it. Without even waiting for her approval, he pushed his tongue into her mouth, tasting her fully. He still had his grip on her hair and pulled it back so he could access her mouth more. She cried out in pain but he swallowed her anguish.

He pressed her harder into the wall, not caring that he was crushing her. She had never felt so consumed, and that just from a kiss. But he was claiming her, she knew. He was forcing her to submit to him. And she did. She had no choice. He was everywhere. She whimpered in pain as he took her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard, drawing blood. She felt a sick pleasure from it, knowing he was taking her blood, her dirty blood as he saw it. He was contaminating himself and he didn't even know it. But she had no time to gloat because just as suddenly as it had started, he pulled away, turning her around by her hair and pressing her against the wall again.

He pressed into her, his hips grinding into her backside. His mouth was at her neck then, leaving hot demanding kisses over her skin as he made his way to her shoulder. She whimpered, feeling the heat gather between her legs again. He growled at her, not wanting her to enjoy it and bit her shoulder hard. His hands were gripping her sides and she knew she would have bruises later, but he did not seem to care. He was punishing her. But he was not killing her. She was still alive. For how long, she knew not. But she was alive. She cried out when just as suddenly as he had started his punishment, he stopped, pulling her hair again to flip her so he could look into her eyes.

He crushed his lips to hers in a demanding kiss, a controlling move. Then, just as deliberate were all his actions, he pulled away. She whimpered at the loss of contact, but he did not move towards her again. Instead, he grabbed her chin roughly, pulling her face towards him, and she was afraid again. His eyes had death in them, his face pure anger. "I don't take kindly to people trying to kill me," he hissed. "Be warned."

He pushed her away then, making her fall to the ground. He started walking towards the door. But when he had his hand on the doorknob, he stopped, turning his head slightly. "This changes nothing."

She was almost afraid to look at him as he left her alone in the room. She waited till she heard the door slam behind him before she let the tears come. So close she had been. So close to killing him, to dying herself, to betraying Harry. But that's what she was doing anyway, wasn't it? Sleeping with the enemy? She saw her Harry now, kneeling beside her, and she imagined him putting his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. In angry tears, she pushed him away. She couldn't even look at him now, not even in her own thoughts. She stood then timidly, hoping Draco would not return. She hurriedly put on her robes and left, knowing there was only one place she wanted to be. Anywhere but here.


	11. Home Is Where The Tombstones Are

She did not know how she ended up here. Except that, she always ended up here. It brought her comfort that could not be any other way. She knew it was sick, that she was punishing herself. That she was reminding herself of all that she had lost. But she couldn't help it. Even now, this was her home, right here with Harry and Ron. She knew that Harry would want to be buried with his parents, and she felt connected to them here, in the graveyard in Godric's Hollow. The graves were unmarked and there was only one body amongst the three, but that would be amended one day, and when that day came, she would gladly rest forever here with those that meant everything to her.

She still remembered the day she had gone to get Ron's body. After Harry had fallen, and all hope was lost, the dead were piled up into a heap of casualties. Casualties, she hated that word, with its demeaning implications. It made Ron's death seem so casual, like he was just another face, another body, another death. She knew she could not let his body remain there. She had stolen into the pillage of bodies under the protection of the Invisibility cloak. The smell of rotting flesh, of blood and vomit, had made her vomit herself. Still, she searched and searched, holding her breath as long as she could, till she found his body. Somehow it had been spared from the same desecration as Harry's body which had become a play thing for the Death Eaters before being hung naked, shattered, and branded in front of Hogwarts.

"He can't feel it," her Ron was standing next to her. Harry was not here surprisingly, just Ron, her Ron. "He's happy."

"You're only saying that because you know it's what I want to hear," she whispered. "I'm not a child, Ronald. You don't have to baby me."

"I know you're not, Hermione," Ron said sympathetically. "Trust me, if there's anything I know, it's that you are most definitely not a child. None of us were, of course, but you _are_ the brightest witch of the age, Hermione. I know I don't have to tell you all these things to try to comfort you. More importantly, _you_ know I don't have to. So why am I?"

"What is this, my own personal intervention? Where's Harry then?" she asked bitterly. Why was she doing to this herself? Because it was the only way she saw them, when she wanted them to say something. But they never did. They consoled her, loved her. They should have hated her. They would have, if they were alive. But she couldn't bear to imagine it.

"I don't know," Ron shrugged. "This is your party, isn't it? If you wanted him here, he would be. But don't try to change the subject. You've made me smarter than I actually was, Hermione. You can't trick me. Why am I here to console you?"

"I don't know," she cried. "I just – I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"I'm scared I'm losing my mind," she admitted finally, even if only to her Ron, only to herself.

He laughed at this, just as she knew he would if it were really him. "You think you're going mental? You? Hermione Granger, brightest witch of the year? If that's really what you believe then maybe you _are_ losing your mind."

"It's just – I don't know who I am anymore. Am I Hermione? Am I Jean? Sometimes, I feel like myself, but then, I don't know. I just don't. Who am I?"

Ron looked at her for a long moment and then finally said, "You're Hermione Granger. You're the brightest witch of the age. You're our best friend. You're the most amazing person I've ever met. You'd do anything for those you love. You're a survivor."

"Then why do I feel like I'm dying? Every moment, it feels like it should be my last," she sat then, unable to deal with the weight anymore.

"Hermione, why didn't you kill Malfoy when you had the chance?" he asked, to which she could only shrug. She had no answer, not even for herself. "I'll tell you why. Because you're not a killer. You're not a bad person. You're stronger than that, any all of us. You're someone who cares about other people so deeply that you'd give your life for them. That's what you're planning on doing, isn't it? Giving up yourself for Harry?"

She just looked at the graves now, unable to speak. There were tears in her eyes but she did not move to wipe them away. Instead, she closed her eyes, and wished him away. She could not talk to him anymore, not when they had gotten to the point that had bothered her the most. She had always been ready to give her life up for Harry, for the greater good. But she had been so careless. She had been weak. She was lucky Malfoy had not killed her for what she had tried to do. She couldn't believe she felt grateful towards Draco Malfoy, but she did. Because he had been merciful in her shame and weakness, she had not failed Harry.

She finally stood and wiped her eyes. The time for crying was over. Whatever had happened, it was done. She did not have the time or courage to dwell on what could have been or what would have been. She did to be stronger than that. With a final glance at the unmarked tombstones, she Apparated back to the Malfoy Manor. She knew she should be on her best behavior, as to not push him to punish her as he should have.

He was waiting for her when she walked into his study, for how long, she did not know. But she knew better than to ask. He looked tired, and tense. She wondered if her punishment was yet to come. "I was very displeased to find you had left after our – chat," he said slowly.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying her best not to shake with fear.

"I don't care where you went, only that you did return. That is good," he lazily leaned back in his chair, eyeing the length of her. "Now I won't have to chase you down."

She stood mute, knowing anything she said would anger him, though to what extent she did not know. She did not know what he wanted from her right now, but she did not want to ask.

"Now, tonight, we will be attending a party," he said casually. She jerked her head up to look at him. Had she heard him right? He wanted her to attend a _party _with him? "The Dark Lord will be there," he said slowly, rolling his eyes. Was this why he looked so exhausted? She could tell it was taking its toll on him. "And as he told me, appearing without you would displease him. So you will accompany me. Is that understood?"

She nodded, feeling herself grow white with fear. Voldemort would see her tonight. Would he see through her disguise? With all those Death Eaters, the chances of her losing her life and failing Harry were too high. But she knew she couldn't refuse. "Is that all?" she asked.

"No," he leaned forward and smirked. "Now after your little mistake this morning, I've decided that what happens will depend on this party."

She tensed. So that was why he had not killed her this morning. Because he needed her. And now he would be testing her. And suddenly, the weight on her shoulders felt even heavier. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if you do anything to embarrass me or annoy me, you will be sorry," he said. "I don't like threats, Jean. You should remember that. I don't like them because it's not a threat, it's a fact. I'm telling you at all because I know you'll now be on your best behavior, correct?"

"Y-yes," she said quietly when he paused. He wanted her to answer. He wanted to humiliate her, to show his power over her. And she let him. She couldn't afford not to.

"Good," he sat back again. "Dinky!"

A house elf appeared immediately. "Yes, master?"

"Show Miss Wyler to her room and help her prepare for tonight," he turned back to the papers on his desk, clearly dismissing them. "Everything is laid out. She must look perfect."

The house elf bowed and then turned to her. "Come Miss, Dinky will prepare you."

She let the house elf lead her out of the study, but not before she snuck one last look at Draco. He had stopped looking at his papers, now that he thought he was alone. He was rubbing his eyes, clearly distraught. Something was bothering him, and she knew without a doubt that it was about tonight, about the Dark Lord. If _he_ was that worried, she was smart enough to know to be afraid.

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**I know, I know this was a filter but if I add the next part it would be way too long and I'm lazy and I haven't thought it out completely haha. But yeah hope you enjoy this! Let me know what you think!**


	12. With Your Back Against The Abyss

Malfoy had apparently left directions for her to look elegant but simple. She could tell that from the long black dress the house elf had dressed her in. It was beautiful of course, and left little to the imagination. The beautiful emerald heart shaped necklace around her neck made her think of just how rich Malfoy actually was. She had always known he came from money - old money, sometimes dirty money - but it was there. Aand clearly it was plentiful.

She looked in the mirror of one of Malfoy's many guest bedrooms and sighed. She looked beautiful, but it was not _her_. She felt like she was looking into the life of someone else. It couldn't possibly be her, could it? Hermione Granger would not have chosen this dress or this necklace in a million years. But then, she also would not have been having sex with Draco Malfoy. But here she was.

"You look beautiful," a too familiar voice said behind her.

She did no need to turn to know who it was, who it always was when she needed to know she was still doing the right thing. "It's not me," she said quietly.

"Why not? Because you changed your hair and your face?" Harry asked, smiling at her through the mirror. "Hermione, look at yourself. If it was not you, you would not be here. You'd be dead, or worse."

"I'm sorry I kept you away," she told him softly, meeting those bright green eyes.

He just continued to smile at her. "No, Hermione. _I'm _sorry. I should never have made you put yourself in this situation."

She sighed and closed her eyes. She needed this. She needed to see him, to hear him, to know he was okay, and most importantly, to know he understood. She almost felt his hand on her shoulder. "You should go, Hermione." She just nodded, not yet opening her eyes. "And please tell me I don't have to remind you to be careful."

"Trust me, atter all these years, that is the one thing you never have to tell me," she smiled finally as she opened her eyes. But he was gone already, and she stood alone in the mirror.

She sighed and turned, leaving the room and walking downstairs. Malfoy was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her, his back to her. He turned when he heard her coming and openly stared at her in awe. "You look beautiful," he said admiringly. His eyes raked over her body and she knew he was undressing her with his eyes. It made her blush as she took his proffered hand and came to stand next to him. He just continued to look over her body, his hand still holding hers.

"Are we going now?" she asked after they had stood there in the same position for several minutes.

"Just a moment," he mumbled. "There are a few things we must go over."

She nodded and waited for him to continue. She already knew she would have to be on her best behavior, especially since the Dark Lord was going to be in attendance.

"The Dark Lord wants to meet you," he said after a long moment. He was visibly tense. "He says he has heard a lot about you, and wants to meet you himself. I'm sure that git Nott went and said something to him. He is always trying to embarrass me in front of the Dark Lord. You will make sure this does not happen." It was not a question, but she nodded anyway. "You are not to leave my side for anything. You will not be welcome by some. I did, however, tell them you are a pureblood, someone related to the Weasleys. Merlin knows they have used their loins enough for that to be true. So you were probably poor as well. I'm sure you know something about the Weasleys if you were on the Order's side. They were rather close to Potter. I wouldn't be surprised if you knew which room they all sleep in in that hovel they used to call home."

She bit back a retort in defense. Pick your battles Hermione, she told herself. This was not one she could win without arousing suspicion. "I know of them," she said, trying not to clench her teeth.

He raised an eyebrow at her tone. His face contorted into anger. "You will not embarrass me or yourself tonight. Remember, your punishment depends solely on how tonight goes. Understood?"

"Yes," she said, trying not to panic. She could do this. She had to. If she failed, he would probably kill her. She had not survived this long only to mess it up by acting a fool.

He offered her his arm, and when she took it, he Apparated them away. They reappeared outside another Manor. It looked completely different from the one she was used to, the one that still haunted her every dream. Where Malfoy's was dark, this one was surprisingly light.. She could not believe it belonged to a Death Eater. Then again, it was extravagant enough to reek of old money and prominence. The marble exterior was proof of that. "Who's house is this?" she asked him quietly.

"Zabini," he said distractedly. He was looking around, seeing if anyone was near. When he saw no one, he spun to face her while pulled her close. Before she could react, his lips were on hers. The kiss was demanding and heated. She gasped into his mouth as she felt his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her further into him. One hand moved to her waist, and slowly slid up her bare thigh through the slit. But just as suddenly as it had started, he pulled away. There was a slight smirk on his face at her expression as he wiped her lipstick from his mouth with his thumb. He thumb ran his thumb over her swollen lips slowly.

She took a deep breath as he waited for her to gather her wit a bit, a smirk still on his face. He offered her his arm again and they walked into the Manor. She forced herself to stay calm. But she was about to go into a snake's lair. She would be surrounded by enemies, by people who wanted her dead at all costs, on every side. She would be cornered in.

It did not help that the room stilled completely when the two walked in. Every eye in the room was on them. She clutched his arm tighter to steady herself, which made him glance at her fleetingly. There was a warning in her eyes. She reminded herself of who she was, of what she was. She was Hermione Granger, one third of the golden trio, the brightest witch of her age, a true Gryffindor. She was a lion amongst snakes. She could do this. She had to.

They walked through the parting crowd towards the head of the room where she saw Voldemort. He was sitting above them, a king above his subjects. She wondered if this was what they fought for when they fought for pureblood supremacy, to be second to a half blood king. His red eyes were set on them, and a small smile was on his lips. She hitched a breath and forced her gaze elsewhere. That was when she noticed how everyone looked at them. She recognized several faces. Most of the men were either leering at her or looking at Malfoy with respect. Clearly, he was a bit of an authoritative person around here. She knew that already from the streets. She picked out a few faces she knew well. Pansy was glaring at her, Blaise was smirking, Theo was sneering, and Goyle looked lost.

She felt Draco grip her hand tightly for a second before he stopped them. They stood in front of the Dark Lord now, and Hermione was forced to look at the evil snake man. He was sneering at them. "My Lord," Draco bowed carefully.

Hermione stood frozen for a moment, and time stood still. She would have to bow to this _thing_? To the reason she was where she was? To the thing that had killed Harry, and so many others? Draco pulled her arm, and she shook her head, pulling out of her thoughts and she curtsied quickly. She knew she would be punished for that later, if not now by a matter much worse. But the Dark Lord simply laughed and stood. His snake slithered next to him as he moved closer. "Ah Draco, so good of you to finally join us this evening," Voldemort said. "And you've brought your pretty friend." He reached out and stroked her cheek with the back on his finger. "I've heard so much about her."

"Oh?" Draco asked tensely.

"Come now, Draco, don't be rude," Voldemort ignored him. "Introduce us."

He looked at her a moment, his eyes flashing. Hermione saw an emotion there, one she could not identify. But she could tell he was afraid for her. "My Lord, may I present Jean Wyler. Jean, Lord Voldemort."

"Jean Wyler, what a magnificent name," Voldemort clapped. "Excellent, excellent. Tell me, Jean, you must be enjoying our world now?"

"M-my Lord?" she asked, not sure if he was taunting her.

He just smirked and clapped his hands again. He gazed behind him, and she followed his view. She gasped in horror when she saw a man being dragged by his chains towards them. He was trying to scream, but no words came out. Voldemort just turned back and smirked at her. Her face had gone white. What was he doing? She looked fearfully at Draco, whose face was a blank mask.

"He was creating such a rukus before," Voldemort said sardonically. He lifted his wand and immediately, the hall was filled with the man's pained screams. There was no other noise coming from the crowd. "Do not worry, we only hurt him a tiny bit. I know how much you love to – play with your food."

Was this a sick joke? What had he heard about her? Did he know she was not indeed Jean Wyler, but Hermione Granger? Was this her punishment before her death?

Voldemort's eyes turned even colder if that was possible when the smile fell from his face. "Kill him."

"My Lord," Draco intervened. "Surely-"

"Silence!" he roared, his eyes on her. He looked at Nott who rushed forward. "I was under the impression, Nott, that her blood lust rivaled even that of my dear Bella. Was this a lie?"

"No, My Lord," Theo smirked at Draco, whose expression had turned murderous. "She must be shy. Come now, Draco, I'm sure you can coax your pet into one little spell, can you not? You usually have such a way with words."

She saw now what had happened. Nott had set them up. He had meant to embarrass Draco. He had warned her the arse would try something. She looked at Draco who looked afraid, his face paler than usual. She knew what she had to do. Draco was her survival at this point. If she failed, he would be punished. And she would be killed. She turned to the screaming man and pointed her wand at him. She stood there for several moments, taking one deep breath after another. She knew the crowd and Voldemort were all growing impatient. She had to do it soon, or it would be too late. But could she kill him? She didn't even know this man. And she was just supposed to end his life? How could she? She glanced at Malfoy again and saw he had closed his eyes, as if preparing for the worst. Willing every emotion in her body to shut off, she turned back to the man. She could not feel this. She could not deal with the guilt of what she was about to do. With a last look at Voldemort, she whispered the killing curse in her mind. The familiar, deadly green light, something she had thought would never come from her, erupted from her wand and hit the man square in the chest. His screams fell silent, but an echo in the silence that followed, as he fell, his face still contorted in horror.

Voldemort was laughing, but she barely noticed. She was taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She had killed a defenseless man. She had ended a life that had been no threat to her. She was a murderer. She barely registered that Draco had put his arm around her waist and pulling her away from the ghastly scene.

**Hey guys! Okay so I hoped you enjoyed the chapter! What did you think? I know, I know, I'm orrible for making her kill someone, but hey, just wait till you see what's next! :D Anyways**, **yeah please review and let me know! I love hearing what you guys think! Okay byeee x**


	13. The Right Kind of Wrong

She was a murderer. She had killed a man in cold blood. She had killed a defenseless human being. How was she better than any Death Eater now? She heard sobbing in the room Draco had led her to, and did not realize at first that it was her own sounds that broke the tense awkwardness between them. He stood back, leaning against a wall, and watched her, letting her cry. She could hear the party still going on on the other side of the door, but she didn't care. She couldn't be there anymore. She would have met death gladly had she thought it would bring her peace. But she knew that she would be condemned to spend eternity in Hell. Maybe this was better, living out her punishment now, feeling this pain, this guilt. She had to suffer for what she had done, and now she would.

"You did what you had to do," he said finally when her throat was too hoarse to make any more sounds. "He would have killed us both if you hadn't."

Like that was supposed to comfort her, knowing she had put her own life, _Malfoy's life¸ _ahead of that of an innocent man. "And that justifies taking an innocent life?"

"I didn't say that," he said quietly. "I'm simply saying that you did what you had to. That doesn't make you a bad person, it makes you human."

"Then being human sucks," she whimpered, wiping her eyes. But it was no use. The moment she had dried her cheeks, new tears erupted from her eyes. She was being comforted by Draco Malfoy of all people. She was being consoled for killing a man. The thought made her sick to her stomach.

"Before you cry yourself to sleep," he continued just as softly as before, "you should know that the man you killed was far from innocent." She looked up at this. "He was captured after repeatedly kidnapping and raping and killing the children of Death Eaters. They may be evil in your eyes, but tell me, does that mean their _children_ deserve to be raped and killed?"

She shook her head. Death Eaters were horrible, and they all deserved to die in her opinion, but their children? She herself had watched Draco struggle their 6th year as he tried to do what he wanted. And he had been a child then, hadn't he? They all were. He didn't deserve that, no matter who his parents were or what they believed. No child did. She felt less guilty for killing the man. Still, she could not shake the feeling that she was now a murderer. "Killing for a just cause does not make the killing any easier," she said quietly.

He stepped away from the wall and walked towards her. He reached up with his hand and wiped her tears with his thumb. She stood immobile as she watched him. She felt a tenderness from him right then. She felt a human part of him that she hadn't felt before. He looked at her, his silver eyes holding hers, smoldering her so intently.

"No, it does not," he spoke with the wisdom of a man that had not had the kindest life. He spoke with experience, and with eyes that had seen way more than they should have at their age. "Nothing does. Not in war, not in peace, not in the throes of passion, not after doing it a hundred times. Nothing makes killing easy."

She looked at him with new eyes for a moment. He killed before. He had killed _many_ times before. And he usually held himself with a cold distance that made him seen almost intangible to it all. But for a moment, for her, he was letting down his defenses. He was showing her just how human he was. And in a strange way, it comforted her, though she could not explain why.

"That doesn't make you a bad person," he continued, reaching up with his hand to lightly stroke her cheek. "You fought for the light. You stood against evil. Just because you killed someone does not make you evil. You're not like the rest of us." _Murderers. _That was what he meant, she knew.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and tried to let his words wash over her. She could still feel the bile edging to her throat. She could still see the black spots in her eyes. She could still feel the guilt of taking a life. But she tried to remind herself of what he was saying. She had done what she had to do. She did it for Harry, to save him. She needed to survive just a little longer, to see a few more days until she could bring him back. She was his last tether to this world. And until she brought him back, she had to survive. She had done many things before to ensure that, and she would do more if need be. Because that was all that was important. Not her peace of mind or her soul. She did what she had to to bring back Harry. And she had never felt more alone for it.

She opened her eyes and found Draco still watching her intently, as if waiting for her to break. She wasn't sure what came over her, but she reached up, leaning heavily on her toes, and kissed him. He seemed surprised at first, but then wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, deepening the kiss. This was what she needed, to feel, to be touched, to know she was not alone.

He turned them and pushed her against the wall, his lips leaving hers, leaving heavy kisses along her jaw to her neck. She moaned as he nipped at her skin, sucking it hard into his mouth. She pulled at his hair, trying to pull him deeper into her. She needed this, to feel him against her, to forget everything before. And she needed him to do it. He understood, he had been here. He clutched her dress at her hip, slowly pulling it up her leg. His fingers lightly grazed her skin, burning her with need. All the while, his lips were doing glorious things to her neck. He grabbed her thigh and lifted it to wrap around his leg.

She cried out when his hand moved between them to her mound. She needed more. She needed him to touch her everywhere. And he was going too slow for her. She put her hands under his shirt, her fingernails scraping his skin as she moved up to his nipples. She twisted them between her fingers and he growled against her skin, moving back up to capture her lips. She moaned against his demanding mouth when he reached up , grabbed one hand and pulled it back to her core with his. With their intertwined hands, he rubbed her clit, sending shivers through her body. He knew exactly what she needed and he was preparing her for it. Still holding her hand, he pushed their joined fingers into her hot core, curling them to touch that sweet spot that so desperately ached. He released her mouth to pull back and watch her, his eyes studying her reactions. He pumped their fingers into her, gaining speed as they pushed in harder every time. She was so close now, just at the eternal edge.

Still thrusting their fingers into her, he started grinding his hips against her thigh, trying to find relief for the growing erection she felt against her and moved his thumb to rub her clit and she came with a loud moan. She knew they could probably hear her outside, but she didn't care. She needed this. Let them hear, let them know. She felt so free, so primal. She felt wanted and not alone. It was glorious. He continued to pump into her as she rid out her orgasmic high, her muscles clenching around their fingers. Only when she came down did he pull out and bring their fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.

"So sweet," he growled before kissing her again. His lips demanded every ounce of her attention. She felt him reach between them and undo his pants. Lifting her slightly so she was pressed between him and the wall, he rubbed the tip of his cock against her clit and she shuddered, knowing what was to come, and feeling just how much she needed it.

His eyes held hers as he pushed himself into the hilt, both moaning at the feel of it. She clutched at his arms as he pulled out till only the tip remained in her and sheathed her again. She cried out over and over again as his thrusts became harder and faster. There was a bittersweet perfection in it, their joining. After letting his defenses down for her and her guilty conscience, they both needed this, this feeling of completion, of not being alone. He was not gentle with her, but she did not want him to be. The roughness kept her from breaking, surprisingly, and she welcomed it.

She threw her head back as the pleasure in her grew, heat spreading to every inch of her body. His lips has moved to her neck, burning her skin. She felt every ridge, every stroke, every inch of him. And she wanted more. She was right on the edge, so close to completion, and as his thrusts became harder, she knew he was almost there as well.

She lightly trailed her hands to his arse and dug her nails into his skin. Draco growled out and sped up his strokes. "You're mine," he murmured against her skin. "Never again will any man know this feeling. Never will they bury themselves in your hot tight cunt. It's all mine!" He reached between them and pressed his thumb against her swollen nub. With a cry, she came more intensely than she ever had before. She felt him shudder through his own release as well.

They stood there for several moments, his head buried in her shoulder, her head resting against the wall, her leg still wrapped around him, both breathing heavily, trying to catch their breath. She looked over his shoulder and saw Harry and Ron standing there, watching them. Both looked not horrified, as she would have imagined, but incredibly sad. She told herself she didn't care and tried to wish them away, but they didn't leave. Instead, Harry's eyes met hers and she saw a single tear fall down his cheek. She closed her eyes and buried her head in Draco's shoulder. She couldn't look at them anymore. She couldn't feel their disappointment. She just couldn't take any of it anymore. And for the first time in her life, she wished with all her heart that she was 11 years old again, and that her Hogwarts letter never came. She wished there was no such thing as magic, that she never met Harry or Ron or even Draco for that matter. She wished, with every ounce of her being, that it had been her, not Ron that had died during the final battle. For the first time in her life, she saw no reason to live, not even Harry.

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**Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! This is going in a slightly different direction than I actually planned but I'm liking this one better than what it was supposed to be. I hope you guys do too! Please let me know what you guys thought! Thanks for reading! x**


	14. When You're Killing Me Softly

"We could leave if you want," Draco whispered in her ear. "Attending these parties is for show purposes anyway. I've made my presence known. We don't have to stay."

She sighed and looked around the party she had been forced to join again. They had left their solitude two hours ago, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to escape back to that secluded room with Draco. She was suffocating here, feeling all eyes on her. Voldemort, it seemed, had left the party long ago, while she was otherwise preoccupied. According to Draco, who had stayed by her side the whole time with his arm around her waist holding her pressed to his side, the Dark Lord only attended to make some spectacle, to remind them all why exactly he ruled them, and never more than that. Now that their Lord was gone, they were more than welcome to leave. But Hermione didn't want to go yet. She couldn't. She needed to prove to herself that she was stronger than this, that she could do this. If she fled now at the first sign of immediate danger, she would only be telling herself she was going to fail in her mission. And if she was truly being honest with herself, which was something Hermione had decided many months ago was unwise to do, she would admit that she did not want to go back to Draco's large, lonely Manor alone with him just yet. She needed to collect her wits after what had just happened, after what she had just felt. She had never felt such pure need in its most primal form. She had never felt so hollow, begging to be filled however she could. She had never felt so disgusted with herself that it was Draco Malfoy, the boy who had tormented her every second he could, that had been there to see it, to quench her thirst.

"Drake," Blaise Zabini interrupted before she answered. He walked over to them. He was smirking widely. "Quite a show you and your pet put on for us. Who knew one of these parties could actually be entertaining."

Draco's arm tightened around her waist as she felt him tense. "I'm so glad I was able to amuse you, Blaise," he retorted sardonically. "Speaking of the _show_, where is Nott? I should – _have a word_ with him."

Blaise chuckled. "You're not really surprised that he did what he did, are you? You've been making a fool of him since we were kids. Of course he is going to do everything he can to ruin you."

"Well then I'll just have to do everything _I_ can to remind him why exactly I can make him look a fool," Draco said darkly. "Honestly, this whole thing is because I wouldn't let him raid the-."

"Draco," Zabini warned, his eyes flickered between Hermione and Draco. His face darkened for a moment before he smirked, once again carrying the light air of serenity he was so famous for. "No business tonight, mate. It's a party after all. Isn't that right, Ms. Wyler?" he looked at her, smiling.

She nodded slightly, watching him oddly, sensing something dark behind his calm façade. Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy's best friend. That was what she knew him as all through school. She had heard rumors of his prowess in bed and his ability to charm over any one of his choosing. She had also heard he was the only one who could calm Draco in one of his fits. He had always been seen in school as the voice of reason in Slytherin. She knew his family was not as heavily involved with Voldemort, but she wondered if their neutrality changed when it was clear he was going to win. They were Purebloods after all. Still, she had always thought he was above the darkness that seemed to consume the rest of them, like he wasn't like Draco or any other Slytherin. But as she looked at him now, she knew she was wrong. Blaise Zabini was every bit as capable of cruelty as Draco was. It made sense, she supposed, since he was Draco's best friend.

"I for one have to say," he said. "Even more beautiful than that show was the delectable noises I heard from the room you both disappeared to." He stepped closer to her, putting his hand on her hip. "I would love to hear you come again, mi amore," he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her ear, causing her to shiver. "Perhaps this time, we can see how _I'd_ make you squeal." He chuckled softly, his eyes flickering to Draco was a moment before his lips were back at her ear. "Draco doesn't like sharing his pets…with anyone but me." She felt Draco tense even more next to her. Clearly, he was not okay with this, which surprised her a bit. They had clearly shared girls before. Why would she be any different to him? Still, despite his obvious anger, he kept himself under control.

She was horrified. She was supposed to be under Draco's protection and his best friend was clearly trying to get in her pants in front of him. Obviously, they had shared girls before. But Hermione Granger was not going to be one of those slags even if she was shuddering at the heat that was gathering between her thighs again. She had to keep at least _some _of her integrity at the end of this. She put her hand on Blaise's chest and pushed him back away from her. "No thank you, Mr. Zabini."

Draco laughed, though it did not cover the anger that was simmering between his eyes. "Well since she so clearly rejects your offer, Blaise, I will save you from having to hear that this time, I will _not_ be sharing. Speaking of which, my _pet_ and I should be going. I'll see you at the Manor tomorrow evening for the debriefing."

Blaise chuckled, his smirk back prominently on his face. "Very well," he nodded. "You're more than welcome to any of the rooms here if you don't want to Apparate home." His smirk unnerved her. She knew there was a perverted meaning behind his words but she was too exhausted to try to decipher it.

Draco forced a laugh, clearly understanding whatever she was missing. "Thank you, but I'd prefer those delectable sounds to be heard by only me. You understand, I'm sure?"

"Of course," Blaise inclined his head. "Then I will see you tomorrow."

"Tell Nott to come early," Draco said quietly. She did not miss his meaning this time in his cold voice. "I'd like to speak to him – privately."

Blaise chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "I'll pass along your message."

Draco nodded once and then led her away from the Italian wizard and out the door. He waited until they were at the Apparating point before slowing down. Without any warning, he Apparated them back into his Manor.

She pulled away from him and let out a sigh of relief. She had made it through the night. She had walked into the snake's nest and somehow made it out alive.

Draco stood there, watching her. "It turns out I don't have to kill you," he said casually. Too casually really, as if he was simply telling her the night had gotten cold.

She looked at him, her eyes wary. She didn't say anything, and she knew he didn't really expect her to. What would she even say to that? Thank him for sparing her life? Or offer him congratulations for earning Voldemort's approval for the night?

"I will deal with Nott's insubordination and conniving trick tomorrow," he said quietly. "I will have retribution for his cowardly attack."

"He really hates you that much?" she asked, her tone just as low as him. "To put your life at risk?"

"It's not about lives," he answered surprisingly. She had just expected him to dismiss her question, to continue to distance himself as he always did. "It's about power. I have it. He does not."

"Why are you telling me this?" she couldn't stop herself from asking. She quickly berated herself. Hermione Granger was inquisitive. Jean Wyler was not supposed to be.

He looked at her for a long time, and she knew she would not get an answer. He was distancing himself off again and she realized she wasn't sure which she preferred. On one hand, she liked knowing things. She was still Hermione Granger after all. On the other, she was afraid of what it meant if he was opening up to her. "You should change," he said suddenly before turning and walking to the stairs. He paused at the foot of the step and turned his head slightly. "Come to my study when you are done." He turned back around and walked up the stairs, leaving her question open in the air with only her confusion for company.

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**Hii thanks for reading! I know this chapter was a little slow but I needed to set some things up for the upcoming events. Anyways, hope you liked it anyway! Let me know what you think please! Okay byee xx**


	15. Comfort Me In My Despair

Hermione had only ever been with one other person before Draco. _Harry_. It was not a memory she visited often, but it did not fill her with the dread it had once. It had been when Ron had left during the Horcrux hunt, back when she was hopelessly in love with Ron and Harry with Ginny. They had gotten together in their desperation for comfort and companionship. They had vowed it would never happen again. But it had helped them both, in ways Hermione was too much of a coward to admit. They had left loved, not alone, something they both hopelessly needed. They had been together a few times after, before Ron came back. That was when it got complicated, when her guilt took over her. She promised herself to tell Ron one day, when it was all over, and they could afford to be distracted. But their task was too great, it needed their undivided attention. She wasn't sure if Ron would leave again if he found out, and she knew a second departure would break her. So she kept silent for the time.

But she was never relieved of her burden. Ron had been killed before she could tell him. She had not wanted to believe that any of them had a chance of dying, that their time could possibly be limited, at least not really. But it was, and he had died. She had whispered it to his lifeless body when she stole it from the pillage of corpses, but it was not the same. He could not hear her, forgive her. He would never know what she had done. She was glad, in a way, that he had died before she broke his heart.

"I knew," Ron said, suddenly next to her. She looked back at him in the mirror while she changed ut of her gown. She could feel him touching her shoulder comfortingly. "At least, I subconsciously knew. I don't blame you though. It was my fault."

"No it wasn't," she said quickly. She could not bear it, him taking the fault for her betrayal. She would not call it a mistake because it wasn't. She had needed Harry and he had needed her. They did not know how long they would survive, if they would make it through each night. They were desperate to know they would not die alone, even then. And she did love Harry, enough to die for him obviously. But more than that. He was her best friend.

"Yeah mate," Harry said from her other side. "It was us, not you."

"I left," Ron said simply. Her Ron, the Ron of her imagination, was so much more forgiving than the one she had known. The real Ron was hotheaded. Hermione forced herself to believe this Ron, her Ron, was speaking for that one, and not just her own subconscious trying to ease her guilt. "I can't blame you guys for thinking I wasn't coming back or needing each other. I should have been there for you both."

"You were," Harry said, smiling at them. It was that smile, the smile he reserved only for them. Harry had been thrown into the spotlight from the moment he found out who he really was. Hermione understood his need for caution, for not trusting so easily. He had been hurt too many times, had had his heart broken far too often. After Sirius's death, Harry had secluded himself, had pushed everyone away, everyone but Hermione and Ron. They were a family, the three of them. "You were always there, mate. You always came back."

"I don't blame you for sleeping with _him_ either, Hermione," Ron said after smiling at Harry. She knew he was no longer talked about their heroic friend. She hung her head in shame. She did not want to talk to them about Draco, about what she was doing with him. "I know you think I'd be mad, but I'm not. I understand."

"It's still gross though," Harry smirked. "I mean, honestly, Hermione, the _ferret_?"

She smiled despite herself. "It's not like I had a choice," she said, blushing slightly. Just like old times. Making fun of Malfoy, them picking on her, her arguing back. It was like nothing had changed, though she knew it had. Because they were both dead, and she was alone. Their small family was broken, and she was the only one left.

"Harry, I think you need to give Hermione all the gold in your vault," Ron smirked. "You owe her big time."

"She can have everything," Harry nodded, laughing. "In fact, Hermione, I will sign my life over to you. You will own me. Congratulations. You now own the Chosen One."

She rolled her eyes. "Because _I _seem like the person to want to own anyone, right?"

"She's right mate," Ron laughed as well. "She's a bloody advocate for house elves and blast-ended shrewds. You think she will want to own a person? Even if that person is the Chosen One?"

They both howled in laughter as she glared at them. "Oh yes, laugh at me. We'll see who's laughing when I curse you both!"

They stopped and smiled at her. "We're only joking, Hermione," Harry grinned. "You know you're our favorite advocate."

She smiled and took a deep breath. "He wants to see me," she said quietly. It had been nice forgetting all about her worries for a while, just being here with her best friends, but it couldn't last. Not when she was fighting each day to make it to the next, not when she had sold herself to Draco Malfoy to ensure her safety.

"Will he hurt you?" Ron asked heatedly. There he was, hotheaded Ron.

She smiled. She had missed him. As much as she liked her version of Ron, he could never replace who he had been. "I don't know. I never know."

"I wish we could protect you," Harry sighed.

"Me too," she said, turning to change her clothes. She had taken too long already. They left her then, so she could change. Even if they were figments of her imagination, she did not want them to see her without her clothes on. She hurriedly changed into a negligee from the wardrobe had had apparently gotten for her. She figured her best bet on survival right now was reminding Malfoy exactly why he had made the deal with her in the first place. She sighed and ran her hands through her silky hair. She couldn't say she missed her beehive on her head, but she felt so out of place in her new appearance. She wasn't Hermione Granger anymore though, she had to remind herself. She was Jean Wyler, her ticket to surviving.

He was waiting for her in his study. He was bent over papers on his desk, clearly exhausted. She walked in timidly, not sure what to expect. "Um," she said, when he didn't look up. He just continued writing. "You wanted to see me?"

He held up a finger to tell her to wait and she sighed, not really sure what to do. She stood awkwardly by the door, trying to pull the thin fabric lower to cover herself more. What was she thinking, wearing this? What was she thinking? This wasn't her. She didn't even know how to seduce someone. And she was supposed to convince Draco Malfoy to not kill her because of some flimsy outfit?

"Took you long -," he looked up finally and his face froze. She blushed under his scrutinizing stare. She looked ridiculous, she knew it, and he was undressing her with his eyes, as if she didn't already have way too little on. She was supposed to be Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, and she had thought a slutty outfit would save her? "Come here," he said hoarsely, leaning back in his chair and turning slightly.

She walked over to him slowly, trying to imitate the girls she had seen walking around with him back at school, how she had seen Lavender and Parvati walking around the common room, trying to catch someone's eye. But she wasn't them. She wasn't beautiful like the girls he sauntered around with, or as confident as Lavender and Parvati had been.

She stopped in front of him, her eyes on the floor. He reached up and trailed a finger down her arm, sending shivers down her spine. "My, my, isn't this different."

She blushed even more, keeping her gaze down. What had she been thinking, she would never know. "I thought you would like this," she whispered.

He was quiet for a long time. "I do," he said. "Come here."

He pulled her onto his lap, his hands resting on her legs. She finally looked up at him, surprised at what she saw. His eyes were hooded and dark with lust. His thumbs were drawing light circles on her thighs. She felt the ache between her legs already. It surprised her, her response to his feathered touches. She _wanted_ him, a feeling she had never thought she would experience with Draco Malfoy, despite his Sex God reputation. Her body was literally aching for him. She leaned down and kissed him, initiating it for the first time. He seemed as shocked as she was. He let her control the kiss for a while, only giving what she was asking for. She put her hands on his chest, trying to feel him more but still keeping it chaste. She wasn't sure how to proceed as he usually did, so in control, so demanding. Once, maybe she could have, before she had been broken, before she had become Jean Wyler, when she was sure of who she was, when she was Hermione Granger, brightest witch of the age. Now, she was cautious. She had to be to survive.

He took over then, deepening the kiss. His hands gripped her legs firmer, his tongue plundered her mouth. He grinded his hips up and she moaned out at the feeling. Her core was aching for him already, already dying to feeling something, anything. And there was barely any cloth covering her as it was. Only a thin layer of silk and his pants separated her from what she wanted.

His lips left hers and moved down her jaw, leaving light kisses in their wake. She arched her head to the side o give him better access as he sucked on the skin of her neck. One of his hands around her and lightly gazed her slit through the flimsy knickers. She needed more. She grinded her hips, trying to feel more contact, but he just chuckled against her skin, not speeding up his fingers. "You've become quite a minx, haven't you?" he said throatily against her skin. She shivered at the feel of his breath. "My minx."

She just moaned, her hands moving to his hair, tangling her fingers through his silky hair. He gave her what she wanted then, tugging her knickers to the side and touching her skin. "Always so wet for me," he said. His thumb drew circles around her nub and she arched her back as he captured her lips once more. She was already so ready for him, already so wet, already aching. She needed more, she needed him. It was not a realization she made happily, but she decided she didn't care anymore. She wanted this. She was grateful for it. Feelings she had not had for over a year, feelings of intimacy, feelings of knowing there was another person there, of not being alone had arisen in her, had ignited her. And she loved it.

She reached down with one hand and stroked him through his pants, trying to coax him into giving her what she wanted. He growled against her lips and shoved two fingers in her. She cried out at the intrusion, loving it, needing more. He pumped his fingers, in and out, in and out, curling them to hit that spot, the one that made her whimper over him. How was he so good? How did he know exactly what she needed? She didn't want to think of the answer to that, and so she pushed it out of her mind, forcing herself to think only of the now, only of the fire he was burning in her.

He reached down and undid his pants. She shoved her hand in and stroked him, loving the feel of velvet in her hands. He was already hard, that she had already known when she felt him grinding it into her. And she needed it, desperately. "Please," she whispered when he finally released her lips from his scorching kiss. "I can't…"

He growled and pushed her back slightly to push down his pants over his hips. While locking his eyes with hers, he grabbed her hips and pulled her down on him in one swift movement. She cried out at the feelings that erupted in her. Yes, this was what she needed. He guided her hips for a while, his eyes still on hers. The intimacy of that act, of having his eyes bore into hers, of seeing into her very soul, was intense. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't. All the while, he stroked her again and again, hitting all the spots she needed. She put her hands on his shoulders to push herself down harder. And slowly, she realized, he had stopped guiding her to run his hands over her sides lightly. She felt so in control like this, like she alone controlled their pleasure. It was different than before, when he had initiated it, when he had controlled it. She found she liked this.

She bounced over him faster, harder, needing more. The fire in her was raging, demanding more fuel. She was so close, almost at the abyss, and by the way he was gritting his teeth, she knew he was too. That turned her on even more, knowing he liked this as much as she did. She rotated her hips, trying to create more friction and was rewarded with a new sensation erupting through her. He growled and reached down to pinch her clit. Furiously, he rubbed it, coaxing her to her finish. She screamed out when it hit her, the intensity shocking her. He thrusted up with his hips then, faster than before, riding out her high as he tried to reach his own ecstasy. He growled and fell over the cliff with her, his head falling on her shoulders as she felt him pulse in her. They sat like that for a while, both panting, both gasping for air.

Finally, he pulled out of her and waved his wand over them both, scourgifying them. She was grateful, since she now felt sick to her stomach. What was wrong with her? How did he coax such reactions from her? He was Draco freaking Malfoy, for crying out loud. She tried to straighten her negligee, but he had it impossible since he was still holding her to him. "I know it doesn't get easier," he said suddenly. His voice was low, controlled.

"What?" she honestly had no idea what he was talking about. There were so many things it could mean, and she knew none of the things she was thinking of would ever get easier. Wanting this, feeling what he made her feel, living this lie, dying every second. None of it was easy, she knew that already.

"Killing," he surprised her. That had not even been on her list of possibilities. He was trying to _comfort_ her, trying to console her. "I'm sure you've gotten your hands dirty, what with the war. But tonight-," he shook his head. "It doesn't get easier."

That she knew as well. She still felt sick to her stomach as she saw the man fall again before her eyes. And she had been the one to do it. She was a murderer. "How do you deal with it?" she felt bold enough to ask.

"You just do," he said quietly. "Because there's nothing else you can do."

"I still see his face," she wasn't sure why she was telling him. When did they pass over to this, to talking, to communicating, to discussing their feelings? "All of their faces, everyone." It was true. She saw Harry and Ron all the time, talked to them, looked to them for comfort, but the others, they haunted her dreams. They kept her awake at night, seeking revenge for what she had had to do.

"I know," was all he said.

And she knew he understood. She looked at him calculatingly. Finally, she saw something she had missed before. She saw the boy she had seen in their sixth year, one tormented, one torn over what he was doing. She was sure he saw faces too. That was the price he had to pay for his power, for his life. She really couldn't live like this for much longer. She could not kill another life. Her list of atrocities for this war had reached an all time high now, and the war was over. And they had lost. All she had done, killing, lying, fighting, stealing that girl's face, it was all for nothing. They had lost. No, she told herself. It was not all for nothing, because it wasn't over yet. She could still bring Harry back, and they could still win. Then everything would go back to the way it was, wouldn't it? She would finally be free of this burden? But she wouldn't. Because she would see their faces still. She would hear their cries. She would smell their rotting flesh and blood. She would save Harry, and they would fight, they would defeat Voldemort, and then what? Would she feel all her actions had been worth it? That she had helped save the wizarding world? Would she consider herself a heroine? Looking into Draco's eyes now, she realized the truth. No matter what happened, even if they somehow won, and saved the world, it wouldn't matter. She would still feel disgusted with herself, as she saw he did. Such horrors they had gone through, such atrocious crimes they had all committed. She thought back on everything that had happened since she entered the wizarding world, everything that happened this past year, and she wondered, for the first time, if the wizarding world was even worth saving anymore.

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**I know, I know, it's been a while since I updated. I hope you guys enjoyed this! I've just been so busy. Hopefully, I'll be able to update more soon. Anyways, please let me know what you thought of the chapter! Thanks :D byeee xx**


	16. Never Alone, Not Really

Draco wanted her there for his meeting with Nott. Hermione could not for the life of her figure out why. He knew she did not stand with her side. Wasn't that why they had entered this little agreement of theirs in the first place? She had fought with the light, alongside Harry, Ron, the Order. He did not know the extent of her involvement, but he knew she was no Death Eater, no supporter of his Dark Lord. So why did he want her there to watch him torture Nott? She just couldn't understand it, something that did not happen too often to Hermione Granger.

Still, she knew she had no choice. She decided to wear a short elegant peach dress. She hoped it would be appropriate. She had never exactly been on the inside of a Death Eater meeting. She had debated with green first, but she was not a Death Eater. Even now, she could not betray her Gryffindor heart.

She walked down slowly to his study, taking deep breaths. He would protect her, wouldn't he? If she was in danger? She did not like the thought of being so close to another Death Eater, especially one that she had gone to school with, and one that clearly wished her ill. After all, Nott had been the one to convince Voldemort to have her kill that man. She knocked on the door and waited till he called her in. He was standing by the fire, a firewhiskey in his hand. He turned and looked at her. He raised an eyebrow at her appearance. She could tell from his expression she had chosen wisely. He himself, she saw, held himself differently than she had seen him before. It was like before the party. His expression was hardened, his eyes determined, his demeanor overbearing. He was a leader, of that there was no doubt. She wondered when Draco Malfoy, the ferret that had always lived in shadows, always intimidated others to prove himself better, always sought to gain his father's approval had turned into the man she saw in front of her now. Gone was tormented look he had had last night, or the unmistakable eagerness to prove himself, or the silent fear that had burned in his eyes. He had already done so. He was one of the highest ranking Death Eaters in a Voldemort ruled world. He had no reason for him to be afraid.

"Nott will be here soon," he said as he went to pour her a drink. He motioned for her to sit in the chair that had been placed to his right.

"Why am I here?" she asked quietly. She did see that this was an opportunity. She could find out more about their operations, find their weaknesses. She could gather more information so that when she brought back Harry, he would know everything the Death Eaters were up to. But it still made her uncomfortable, made her afraid.

He paused for a second before he turned and handed her a drink. A look of torment passed his face for a second before his expression hardened once more. "Nott's offense was not only towards me, but you as well. He knows you are mine. You should be here for his punishment."

"And if I don't want to see it?" she asked as he took his seat behind his desk.

He chuckled slightly, before taking a gulp of his drink. "I didn't ask if you did. Like I said, you're mine so you will be here."

She wanted to retort, tell him she was no one's property, she could walk out right now and if he dared to try to stop her, she would kill him. She wanted to tell him that even now, she was still Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of their age. If she truly wanted to, she could defeat him. But she didn't want to, because she had tried to kill him already and she had failed. And he could not know who she was. Better for him to think she was weak Jean Wyler, who had survived because of a cowardly act rather than Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's best friend. And so she kept her silence, choosing, instead, to take small sips of her drink as they waited for Nott to appear.

There was a knock on the door. He smirked slightly, and put his hand on her thigh. "Enter."

Nott came in, and Hermione saw true fear in his eyes. But there was defiance there as well. Nott was clearly going to be a problem. "You wanted to see me before the meeting?"

"Close the door," Draco said coldly. "And take a seat."

Nott did as he was told, moving slowly. Hermione kept her gaze down, not wanting to look into his eyes, though she could feel his gaze on her. "And why is your whore here?" Nott spat.

"_Crucio!"_

Draco had moved so quickly, she had jumped as she heard his curse hit its target and Nott started writhing in pain. He had had his wand out in seconds, sending the Unforgivable at him before anyone could react. "Watch yourself, Nott," he said, his voice as cold as ice. "You're on thin water as it is right now. You can't afford to piss me off any more."

"Is this what you do now, Draco?" Nott laughed bitterly when the curse ended. He was panting deeply, hatred written clear in his face. "Curse your closest friends for blood traitors and mudbloods?"

Draco growled at him. Hermione felt very afraid, more afraid than when she saw Ron fall or when she bid Harry goodbye the last time or any day of the Horcrux hunt. She knew both men both not leave this room unscathed. She knew that this would also not be the last of it. The loser would have his vengeance. She could tell that from both their expressions. "We stopped being close friends when you tried to embarrass me in front of the Dark Lord."

"You deserved it," Nott smirked. "You should have seen your face. I would do it again if I could. You think yourself as high as Him, don't you, Malfoy? You think yourself as powerful as the Dark Lord. But who gave you that power? You gave you the right to be above the rest of us, above me?"

"I knew you would have some pitiful excuse, Nott," Draco shook his head, "but even I didn't expect _that_. Who gave me power? No one had to give me power. That's your problem. I took it. That's the difference between you and I, Nott. I know what I need to do and I do it. You, on the other hand, you need people to tell you what to do."

Nott snarled and drew his wand, shooting an unspoken curse at him. Draco deflected it easily and stood. Hermione gasped. She did not want to be here for this. She did not want to see this. She had seen too much war, too many curses, too much pain, too much death. She was tired of it. She had not realized just how tired of it she was until now. She had kept out of violent situations to keep herself safe, or so she told herself. But now she knew, it was more than that. It was the pain she saw. She was too exhausted by it.

He threw another Cruciatus Curse a Nott who fell to the floor, writhing in pain. "You defied me for the last time, Nott. You will learn your place. I _am_ above you, and now I will make sure you remember it."

He held him under the curse. Hermione felt tears welling in her eyes. She had to cover her mouth and look away. She could not take this. "Please," she begged him, though she knew her voice would not have the effect she wanted. "Stop, please!"

He looked at her, though his curse remained in place. His eyes softened momentarily before he ended the curse. He looked at Nott with such contempt. "This will be your last warning, Nott. Do not cross me again."

Nott spit at his feet and painfully tried to sit up. "Nice to see you so whipped by this traitor, Malfoy," he spat.

Draco raised his wand again but the door opened and Blaise walked in, as nonchalant as ever. Hermione was grateful for his appearance. She could not see Nott endure the curse again, not when she had felt it herself before, not when she was here. "You're early," Draco said coldly.

Blaise just looked down at Nott and back at Draco, smirking. "Figured I'd come a bit early to stop you from adding another murder to your list."

"Always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, Blaise," Draco smirked, sitting back down. "Well since you're here anyway, I suppose we'll get started. Nott, if you could refrain from dirtying my rug any longer, I would be ever so grateful."

"I see we won't be alone," Blaise raised an eyebrow as he sat down.

Draco's gaze flew to Hermione for a second. "Jean, if you could excuse us?"

Hermione nodded, more than ready to get out of there. She stood quickly, avoiding Theo's eyes as she tried to hurry pass. "Is she with you here always, Draco?" Blaise commented, just loud enough for her to hear before she reached the door.

"Yes," Draco said warily.

"What about tomorrow? I mean won't Astoria is pissed if her fiance's mistress is living with him while she visits France with her sister?" his tone was so nonchalant. Hermione turned and looked at him quickly as she ran to the door. Draco met her gaze, though he looked unfazed and cold.

He knew just as well as she did what Blaise had just done. He was reminding Draco why exactly he would never be in Nott's position. They knew too much about each other, they understood too much. But Hermione still felt sick. Draco was engaged? Why was she so surprised? After all, he was young, rich, and powerful. Of course all pureblood witches would want to catch him as quickly as possible. Still, she felt dirty. She felt sick. She left the room quickly, and then she left the house. She knew he would want to talk to her after his meeting, and that was definitely not a conversation she wanted to have. She hurried to the Apparation point and Apparated to her little flat.

She took deep breaths to calm herself. She had not factored in a jealous fiancé into her survival. She didn't know the younger Greengrass sister, though she had seen her back at Hogwarts. Would Astoria cause problems for her? Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to go back to find out.

She couldn't understand why Draco would be so public with _her_ if he was engaged. There had to be something behind his plan, didn't there? Though, to that party, the Dark Lord had formally requested her presence, and she supposed he didn't even care what Nott and Blaise thought. And it wasn't like he was married already. But she felt so stupid. She had needed him, had needed everything he was giving her. And yes, she knew from the beginning that he was using her, and she in turn, him. But to hear how inconsequential she was, she was surprised to find out how much it hurt her.

"You're developing feelings for him," Harry was suddenly next to her.

She looked around and was glad to see she hadn't manifested Ron as well. This was not a conversation she could ever have with him.

"I am not!" she said defiantly. They weren't feelings exactly. She knew what it was, what they were doing. It was her survival. But there were times when she felt that he was not as bad as he seemed, that there was still good in him.

"Hermione, just run," Harry said after a moment. "I'm not worth this. Go. You cannot develop feelings for the ferret. Go to Romania. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley will be so glad to see you. You can have a normal life again. Or you could go to Australia and find your parents. What about that? It doesn't matter. Just go anywhere. As far from here as you can."

"No," she said, glaring at her best friend. "You know I can't just run. And you _are _worth it. I've seen it, Harry, how bad it is. You need to come back and finish this. Only you can. And these people, they need you. I need you."

"Hermione," he sounded sad. "You're so much better than this."

"Oh shut up, Harry!" she rolled her eyes. "I'm not leaving. And there is nothing you can say to change my mind about that, Harry Potter."

"But why?" he said. "Why would you want to stay here? If you left you could be Hermione again. You could get back to normal."

"I don't want to be Hermione again," she said quietly. "Harry, I haven't been the girl you used to know for a long time now. And I can't be her again. This is who I am now. I'm a survivor."

He sighed and shook his head. "I hate what I've turned you into."

That hurt, even if it was just in her head. And not just because it was Harry who said it, but because she felt it too. Some days, she truly hated herself. But then she reminded herself why she was doing this, why she was walking past the suffering on the street, why she was turning away from the people she would have helped before, why she was letting _Draco Malfoy _degrade her so. It was because she had to. She had to do this for Harry. She had to do this so that one day, if she lived past this, she could look back and say all her actions were worth it, that all the sacrifices she had made had helped bring about a better world, a world free of Voldemort. She had to do this because if she left, if all of the things she had done were for nothing, she would not be able to look at herself, even her own face.

"I hate that you don't understand," she told him.

"I do, Hermione," he said quietly. "I do and I hate it even more because I understand. And I want you to know, I would do the same for you."

"Harry, you died for me," she said. "I don't even know how to repay you for that, but to bring you back."

He smiled slightly and hugged her. At least, she told herself she hugged her. It hurt to see him here, knowing he was just a figment of her imagination, knowing he wasn't really saying these things. But if she closed her eyes and held really still, she could pretend she really felt his arms wrap around her, and in a sick way, it comforted her exactly how she needed.


	17. In Desperation

The next day, she was sure he would not expect her to come back so quickly. After all, the truth was finally out. He was engaged and his fiancé was going to be coming today. She didn't remember Astoria at all. She knew she was in Ginny's year and was Daphne Greengrass's little sister, but that was as far as her knowledge of the girl went. After all, she was hardly close to Daphne or any other Slytherin. She remembered faint glimpses of the girl around Hogwarts before everything went to hell. She was pretty from what she could recall, with hair as blonde as Draco's and a snotty look just like her sister. But she was still a person, she was still Draco's fiancé. And Hermione was the girl who was sleeping with him, his mistress as Blaise had so deviously called her. She did not know Astoria Greengrass but she knew the Slytherin would not be so keen to have her fiancé boarding his mistress.

She sighed and shook her head. Who cared? She wasn't doing this for herself or for Draco or Astoria. She was doing this because she had to, because it was the only way to keep her alive long enough to bring Harry back. That was what was important. That was always what was important. She tried to push the thoughts out of her mind as she paced her apartment.

She wondered when it would be okay to bring Harry back. This had always been the problem, from the very moment Harry left her to meet his fate and she walked away to this new life. When would be the safest and perfect time to bring Harry back? She had to plan it precisely. It had to be when the other side was even slightly weakened, and when she could ensure they could leave the Ministry safely. She had brewed Polyjuice Potion for the escape plan so she could go at a moment's notice. She had also brewed Felix Felicis, though that had been more difficult. Slughorn was right in their sixth year. It was a difficult potion. But she knew they could use all the luck they could get. She had debated whether she should try it out first, try to get some luck herself. But she wanted to save it for that moment when they needed it more than anything. She knew it was stupid to believe that the universe would only give so much luck. She had seen the power of the potion the night Dumbledore was killed. But still, she was a firm believer in karma. There was only so much good that could come from something like the potion before the universe intervened. Likewise, she knew there was only so much horror she would face before her luck turned around. She would wait for that moment and then she would bring Harry back.

There was a knock on her window and she timidly went to go open it. Who would send her mail? She knew it was from Draco. He was the only person she had had contact with for a year. He was the only person who could have tracked her down to send her an owl. She let in the bird and took it to her kitchen to offer it a treat. The beautiful black owl hooted gleefully as it sipped the water she offered and nibbled at the food while she detached the parchment.

_Come tonight. The floo in my study is opened for you.  
-D_

She crumbled the parchment in her hands and took a deep breath. Blaise had said Astoria was coming today. Was she gone already? But if she was, why would he want her to come directly to his study? She knew that meant that Astoria was probably staying the night, and yet he still wanted her to go to him. Hermione felt disgusted. But she knew she had no choice. He clearly knew where she lived, and he would come for her if she did not answer his summon. Her choices were lain out before her. She could run and hide again, taking on a new face, a new identity, a new life and hope she could hear enough to know when it was time to go save Harry, or she could go to him and continue as she was, trying to survive each day. Neither appealed to her, neither would provide the peace she so desperately craved. She decided to go with the easier one, the one that would keep her from stealing someone else's life, someone else's peace. She had already done it once, to a nameless person, to a face she had hoped would not be recognizable. She didn't have it in her to do it again.

And so she went to take a shower with a heavy heart. She took her time, not yet feeling the filth washing away from her body. She could not believe what her life had become. But she couldn't think about that now. After all, she wasn't Hermione Granger anymore. She was Jean Wyler. She was no longer the brightest witch of her age, she was a nobody, a face no one would ever recognize. Bu the face had not belonged to a _nobody._ She was a person, she fought with them, she gave her life for the cause, for Harry. And Hermione had denied her the peace she should have gotten after, after she gave her life for the very cause Hermione was sacrificing everything for. But that didn't make it any easier to know what she had done. Even though she knew it was necessary, even though she knew it was the only way to do what she had to, even though she knew that in the end, her sacrifice would be worth it. Or so she hoped.

She stepped out of the green flames that brought her here. She was alone in his study, something that always made her uncomfortable. Even with the shelves and shelves of books, she still felt out of her element. Because this was Draco Malfoy, a high ranking Death Eater, a wizard lord, and as she recently found out, a betrothed man. What did he even want with her right now? His fiancé was back from visiting her sister. Shouldn't he be entertaining the future Mrs. Malfoy?

She sighed and shook her head. She knew, of course, that she didn't really have a choice but to be here. She wondered if he knew she was here, and debated going out into the hall. But she decided it was best to stay here, no matter how long she had to wait. What if she ran into Astoria? That would be the worst possible thing. No, she realized. Seeing them together, intimately in any form, would be the worst thing. And it frightened her that that scared her more than seeing Voldemort himself out there.

She did not have to wait long, thankfully. He walked in moments later, closing the door swiftly behind him. When he turned to face her, she felt herself backing up slightly. Now that his fiancé was home, was their arrangement now over? The thought hadn't occurred to her before but now that it had, her survival instinct kicked in. She reached into her pocket and gripped her wand, feeling a lot safer physically knowing it was ready to be drawn.

His cold eyes were more distant than usual, and his face was tense. She took a deep breath, readying herself for the inevitable battle. "I wasn't sure you would come," he said, his soft tone disarming her for a moment. It had to be a trick, didn't it? What hunting horcruxes with Harry and Ron and the war had taught her was to hold her trust greedily, because giving it out could make the difference between life and death. A pretty face and a soft smile could be the bringer of death.

"You would have hunted me down if I hadn't," she replied coldly.

He laughed and moved closer to her, not denying it. They both knew it to be true. Because it all came down to power. She had fought on the side of the light, on Harry's side, and she no longer had power while he had it all. And he would have used it to bring her down for refusing him. "Yes, but it's so much better with you willing."

"What am I doing here?" she asked. "Isn't your fiancé here? I'm sure she won't want to be kept waiting while you dispose of the vermin."

He laughed again, though it did not reach his eyes. His eyes turned calculating, cynical, _cold_. "Astoria is sleeping," he said, moving closer still.

"Then I'll try not to scream," she gripped her wand tighter. He stood across from her now. He was close enough that she could touch him if she reached out. She silently played out different scenarios of how it could play out. Maybe she could knock him back hard enough to give her a moment longer to attack.

"Oh but I very much like it when you scream," he said softly, reaching out to trail his finger down her arm.

She shivered, completely confused. That was definitely more sensual. What was he planning, to rape her before he killed her? "I suppose it doesn't matter if you're caught," she said bitterly. The old ways were gone. Murder didn't mean a life in Azkaban anymore, not if you were a Death Eater at least.

"You're joking, right?" he looked into her eyes. "She would kill me."

That statement really confused her. Why would Astoria care if he killed her? She was about to marry him, so she clearly did not care about the crimes he committed.

An odd expression crossed his face. "Why do you think I called you here tonight?"

"I'd think it was obvious," she pulled out her wand and stepped back defensively. "But I'm warning you, I won't go out without a fight."

He laughed now, still not drawing his wand. He just watched her, clearly amused. "Jean, Jean, Jean," he shook his head. "I thought we already went through this. You won't kill me. You can't. You're too good."

"To defend myself when attacked?" she narrowed her eyes. "I can certainly do that, whether it leads to your death or not. You forget that I fought in the war too. I _have_ killed in battle."

"The battle's over," he said softly. "You've lost."

"Maybe but I'll ensure you go down with me."

He stepped closer, and she hesitated. "Don't come any closer, I'm warning you."

He ignored her and stepped closer to her. She backed up until she was pressed into the corner. Damn it, how had he maneuvered her here even without a wand? This _was_ a battle. And she had to defend herself. Sure, she couldn't kill him before when he was defenseless, but now, everything had changed. Still, she could not figure out why he wouldn't draw his wand. Maybe he wanted to do this the Muggle way.

He stood almost pressed against her. "You should now something before you kill me," she said quietly. She wanted him to know who she was. She wanted to tell him that he _had_ seen her during the battle, but it was not with the face she carried now, that she had been standing next to Harry, fighting alongside him and Ron. She wanted to remind him that she was the brightest witch of their age, that he would not be able to beat her, that he had _never_ been able to beat her. She wanted him to know that somehow if he _did_ beat her now, she would die as only herself, as Hermione Granger, with her face, her life, her dignity.

"Mhmm," he stared into her eyes, a small smirk on his face. He reached up to touch her face. "And if I don't kill you?"

She gasped at his touch. What was he doing? Why was he playing these games with her? "You'll want to know what I say, trust me."

"That's the thing, Jean," he said quietly. "I don't care."

And then he was kissing her. She gasped into his mouth, her hands reaching up to grasp his robes. Her wand fell out of her hands as it finally dawned on him. He wasn't trying to kill her, a least not yet. He was still upholding his end of their deal, so long as she held hers as well. She felt so stupid now. She had been so close to telling him who she really was, ruining everything, putting her whole year, all her sacrifices to waste. And she just clung on to him tighter, punishing herself for her slip of intelligence.

His lips travelled to her neck, sucking on her skin harshly. She moaned, her head jerking back and hitting the wall. "You really thought I would kill you?" he whispered against her skin. "You thought I would let this go?"

He ground his hips into hers to emphasize his point. She whimpered as she felt his arousal on her thigh. She fingers moved up to entangle in his hair. She tried to pull him closer into her. She knew this was wrong, that he was a betrothed man, that he was the enemy. But she couldn't help it. She needed this, she needed him.

He turned her around and pressed her against the wall. His lips trailed her neck, down to her shoulder. His other hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her robes up. "As much as I love hearing you scream my name, I'd prefer right now if you kept quiet," he whispered against her skin as his fingers probes her knickers. She whimpered, biting her lip to keep from calling out. He knew exactly how to ignite every bone in her, how to make her wanton in his arms. He roughly pulled her knickers aside and she pressed her forehead against the wall as she felt him find her nub. He was pressed against her, grinding his arousal into her back.

"Always so wet for me, love," he whispered. "Always so ready. You like this, don't you? You like me touching you." He drew circles over bundle of nerves as his other hand reached over and thrust two fingers deep into her. "You like me filling you, _fucking _you, making you cry out. Don't you?"

"Please," she cried as quietly as she could. She felt disgusted with herself. His fiancé was right upstairs. An innocent woman whose life she was destroying. And all she wanted to do was feel his cock filling her until she couldn't walk. She could not deny how he made her feel, how he enflamed every cell in her body, how he made her cry out in ecstasy. And she could not deny how much she wanted it now, how much she _needed _it.

"Shh," he reprimanded her, removing his fingers from her. She heard his zipper and knew he would give her what she so desperately wanted. "I can't have her finding out, love."

And then he thrust into her. She bit her lip so hard to keep from calling out that she tasted blood in her mouth. He was in to the hilt, making her feel so complete, so _full_. He pressed her harder against the wall and she welcomes the support as he began pulling out. When just the head of his cock was left in her, he pushed in again, just as hard, just as deep. "Oh God," she cried silently.

He kept up a slow, agonizing pace, stretching her, making her feel as if he would tear her apart, and she welcomed the feeling. In fact, she needed more. She tried to grind her hips back to feel more friction, but he just chuckled, keeping his slow pace. "Patience," he kissed her neck. But he picked up the pace for a few strokes, a promise of what was to come. He had just barely entered her and already, she was feeling her orgasm build. With each hard stroke, she came closer and closer to falling into the abyss. He reached his hand around her again and once again found her nub. It was enough to push her over the edge, and she called out in pleasure.

He stilled to ride out that dark wave as her pussy convulsed around his cock. She threw her head back on his shoulder, glad to have the wall and him holding her up. And then he started thrusting again, harder and faster. She was being pushed up along the wall with every stroke, trying to keep from calling out. And he went faster still, licking the fire that once again started to build within her. He was driving her to orgasm again, with him this time. "Oh God," she moaned as quietly as she could. His thrusts became sloppier as they came closer and closer to the abyss together. Until finally, she cried out as her second orgasm hit her. He thrust into her again, one, two, three, each extending her high, until she felt him fall over the edge as well and still. His head rested on her shoulder as they both tried to catch their breath.

Finally, when they had both calmed down, he pulled out of her and stepped away. It took her another minute to gather the courage to turn and face him. He was watching her, though she was finding it hard to look him in the eye. Neither of them spoke for a while. "I have to go," she said quietly, her eyes downcast.

"Yes."

She just nodded and walked over to the fireplace. There was nothing left to say between them, and she doubted there was anything she _could_ say. But an unspoken conversation passed between them when she gather floo powder in her fist and finally looked him in the eye. He was engaged, he was promised to another woman. They both knew it had to stop but neither of them was going to end it. And the fact that she herself wanted it too much, wanted _him_ as such, frightened her. Because he was not a priority. The only priority was survival to bring Harry back. That was the only thing that mattered, not her sex with Draco Malfoy. Yet, still, she wanted it so desperately, she needed to feel that connection with someone even if it was the man who was supposed to be her enemy, who really _was_ her enemy.

She looked at him once more time, brown meeting silver before she threw the powder and called out for her flat, leaving her enemy behind.


	18. Deceptive Heart

Hermione Granger was not Jean Wyler. There was no question in her mind about it. She was not weak, she was not a quitter, she was not someone to quietly let _Draco Malfoy_ touch her. She was the brightest witch of her age. She was extraordinary. She was not average. She had always believed in being modest. Harry was modest, despite everything he had done. She was modest, though she was always the first in her class. Ron was – well Ron wasn't modest. But he had had six siblings to compete with since he was born. But she always believed that bragging was alright if it could be justified. And she was she could justify saying she was extraordinary. She was intelligent, she never settled for second best. She had helped Harry find every horcrux. She had camped out in the cold and heat and every climate without complaining once. She had destroyed a part of Voldemort's soul. She knew she was not average. And that was why she knew she was not Jean Wyler.

Still, she had lost focus on where Hermione Granger ended, and Jean Wyler began. She had been her for a year, for 365 days, 8765 hours, 525,948 minutes. She wasn't sure that after a year, parts of the two personas wouldn't end up mixed together. For example, Jean Wyler wasn't supposed to like reading, not like Hermione Granger did. And yet, here she was in Flourish & Blotts. She knew she shouldn't be here, but she couldn't help it. Draco had not called her in a week, and in her own disgust and confusion, she had read through every book in her flat – twice. She needed something new, she needed something to calm her as only books could.

"That's a good one," a familiar voice called her attention.

She spun quickly and saw Blaise Zabini nodding at the book she had been mindlessly thumbing through for the last 10 minutes. "What?"

"As far as muggle books go, of course," he smirked slightly. "That is one of my favorites. Have you read it?"

"Oh um no," she lied. She had read this before, a long time ago, a lifetime ago. Of course she had, every muggle had. The Chronicles of Narnia were a classic, something every child knew about. A story of wonder, a timeless story of a magical place. Before she knew of magic, before she was part of this world, this book had been her escape. Now, she felt like she would never connect to it again, not when so much had happened to her. It had been a place for her mind to wander, to explore, to escape, and now, she could not afford to let that happen. Now, she knew the harsh realities of the world. Now, she knew Narnia was too special, too amazing, too _magical_ to exist in this cruel world.

He eyed her curiously. "I never thought a girl Draco was interested in would enjoy reading. He's always into those that are so different from him. Merlin knows Astoria would burn every book in his study if she could."

Hermione tensed at the mention of her _master_ and his fiancé. That was what he was, wasn't it? Her master, who could call her and she would have to come running, who held her life in his hands, who could easily dispose of her any time he wished. This was getting too much for her. She had come for a book, just a simple book to calm her. She had spent too much time here, and had been noticed too much. She needed to get out of here.

He seemed to notice her reaction and chuckled. "Well Jean, since you _are_ my best friend's mistress, it would be rude of me to ask you to accompany me to lunch."

"Oh, no I couldn't," she said hurriedly. "I must be going."

"Nonsense," he brushed her off, grabbing the book out of her hands. "Right after I buy this for you, I will take you out."

"That's really too much," her eyes widened. Why was he being so nice to her? Why was he trying to spend time with her? She needed to get out of here. She knew this trip had been a bad idea in the first place. Why didn't she ever listen to that small stupid voice in her head that tried to tell her not to be so stupid?

"Come now, everyone should read the Chronicles of Narnia at least once in their life," he smiled and offered her his arm. "Ms. Wyler, I really must insist."

She sighed, hearing the threat in his voice. He knew what she was, what she was doing with Draco. With one word, he could ruin everything, all her sacrifices would be for nothing. At least he wasn't asking her to sleep with him too. That, she could not have handled right now. She grudgingly took his arm and let him lead her to the cashier, like a kept woman.

* * *

"He doesn't love her, you know," Blaise said absentmindedly, fingering the edge of his firewhiskey glass. They had been at the restaurant for an hour now. She was looking for her escape, but so far, he had not allowed it.

The statement now made her look at him, something she had been trying to avoid for the last hour. "Who?"

"Astoria," he said quietly. "He doesn't love her."

"Oh," she said. That was what she had deduced for herself. If he had, she didn't want to think he would still call her to him like a whore.

He looked at her, a small smile on his lips. "He is being forced into it. The Dark Lord finds the match agreeable."

She found it eerie how Voldemort could be spoken about so casually now. But then, times had changed so much in the last year. The name was still tabooed, but nearly everyone called him the Dark Lord. That was what he was after all now, that was what he had accomplished, that was what they had to fix. "To breed more pureblood spawn."

Blaise laughed. "Something like that," he said. "But he's fooling himself into thinking Draco will oblige with this."

"He's done worse things in the Dark Lord's name," Hermione said quietly. It was true. Rumors had spread fast and far. Draco Malfoy was no innocent any longer.

"Yes, but not this," Blaise said slowly. He was watching her, reading her expressions. She worked hard to keep her face neutral. She wanted so desperately to know more, but she could not ask, not without drawing suspicion. It seemed, however, Blaise would tell her something on his own. Why he was telling her any of this in the first place, she did not know. "Draco will not continue the Malfoy line."

She looked at him in shock. That did not seem like him, like the Malfoys she had known. Wouldn't they want to continue their pureblood line? Wouldn't they want to cintue their legacy? She was shicked to know that he wouldn't want his little blond haired snot to threaten telling his father. "Why?" she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Who knows," Blaise shrugged. "But I garuantee you that Astoria will not be popping old little spoiled blondies any time in the future. Ah, and speak of the devil himself."

She gasped when she looked past him and saw none other tan the devil himself, and his dazzling queen of hell. His eyes met hers across the restaurant and he visibly tensed. She looked back to Blaise with her eyes wide, and his smirk was enough to tell her that he knew they would be here. He had set this up. He had planned this whole thing. That conniving little Slytherin! "Why?" she whispered again.

He ignored her as he turned and waved at them. "Draco, over here."

"Blaise," Draco's tone masked the threat poorly. "What are you doing here?"

"Just enjoying a meal with my friend here," he smiled pleasantly. Hermione tried to crouch lower in her seat to avoid all attention from her. "Why hello Astoria, how lovely to see you."

"Blaise," she leaned down to kiss both his cheeks. "Is this the new girl that's been keeping you away from visiting me since I returned?"

Blaise laughed, as if he had no care in the world. Hermione wanted to hex him. She had always thought he was the best of the Slytherins, but clearly, he was just the same. "Guilty as charged. Astoria, this is Jean. Jean, this is Draco's fiancé Astoria. I don't believe you two have had the pleasure of meeting."

Hermione smiled while Astoria nodded. "How nice to meet you. I have to say, I never thought there would be any witch that Blaise would be interested in for more than one night. I'm glad to see I was wrong."

Hermione did not know what to say. She looked between the men nervously. Draco's expression was unreadable, cold and distant. Blaise on the other hand was smiling and winking at her. "Y-yes," she played along with the charade he had so cleverly set up. "I'm rather shocked as well."

"Now, why don't you two join us," Blaise waved the waiter over. "Can we combine these two tables per chance?" he slipped him a 100 note bill.

The waiter nodded eagerly and quickly made the arrangements. Draco helped Astoria sit and then sat beside her, his eyes clearly avoiding her. Hermione wanted to die. She decided in that moment that when she brought Harry back and they fought the battle again, she would find great joy in killing Blaise Zabini.

"So have you two decided on the wdding date yet?" Blaise asked as the waiter poured two more drinks.

"We're thinking a winter wedding," Astoria said, smiling at Draco. He returned the smile, though Hermione noticed it didn't mean it eyes. He was too tense, too withdrawn, too cold. "But enough about us! How did you two meet?"

She was looking at Hermione, but Hermione was drawing a blank. She had met Blaise at Hogwarts, fought against him in the battle, and then met him again when she was Astoria's fiance's mistress. She doubted that was what Astoria wanted to hear. It seemed that Blaise had thought of even this however. He chuckled and reached over to take her hand. She hesitantly gave it to him, and he smiled. "We met at Flourish & Blotts. Jean here reads as much as Hermione Granger, if you can believe that."

She froze, trying to keep a calm look on her face. But inside, she was screaming. Why did he make that reference? He seemed unaware of her response, luckily, as he continued. "She was looking at my favorite book, and I, of course, could not resist trying to start a conversation with one so beautiful."

"Of course not," Astoria smiled at her. She blushed and looked down, wondering if she would think her beautiful if she had her own face now. "I heard you made quite the commotion at Blaise's party." Her tone was tense.

So she had heard about that. Did that mean she knew the truth, that she was there with Draco, and not Blaise. "I have Nott to thank for that," Blaise shook his head, pretending to be angry. But Hermione could see the glee in his eyes. "Of course, Draco escorted her, because we were trying to be discreet at that point, and your poor fiancé had no date of his own, what with you in France and all."

"Draco is so sweet, isn't he?" Astoria smiled, relaxing immensely. Hermione could not decipher if she meant it sarcastically, but she was almost positive that Astoria was serious. She actually thought Draco Malfoy was sweet. Did they know the same man?

"I did what any friend would do," Draco said curtly.

"And I thank you for it," Blaise tipped his glass at him. "After all, no one knew that she was there for me, and not you. Cheers to you, mate."

And then Hermione knew what he had done. It wasn't just to see her discomfort at being at lunch with Draco's fiancé. He was protecting Draco as well. He knew Astoria would find out that she was there with Draco, and she would be suspicious. Blaise had just saved Draco the unprepared lies. She couldn't fault him for that, could she? After all, she would have done the same for Harry or Ron, and from what she had heard, Blaise and Draco had been best friends since before Hogwarts. Most people thought it was either Crabbe or Goyle or perhaps both, but they were his lackeys. They were his insubordinates. She saw now that Blaise was his equal.

She sat there quietly for the rest of lunch, trying to keep as much attention away from her as possible. But she kept looking at _him_. She couldn't help it. He sat there, tense and quiet. He was avoiding looking at her, but every now and then, when she would look away for fear of getting caught, she could feel his burning gaze on her. He didn't really join in the conversation either, which was held distinguishably by Blaise and Astoria as they discussed her time in France and more about his supposed relationship. Astoria told him to make sure he brought her to the engagement party. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to scream at her, to let her know what she had done, what she would do. She wanted to let her know that she was fucking the man she was betrothed to. But she would never, of course. How could she? How could she throw away everything because she couldn't deal with a little guilt? She shouldn't even feel guilty. These were the guilty people, the evil ones, the ones who should be plagued with horrors in their sleep. Not her. She had fought for the light. She had fought for what was good. She had fought for Harry. But it was she who woke up every night in cold sweats as the events of the war flashed before her eyes. It was she who had to hide like a criminal in a disguise. It was she who had to sacrifice her happiness over and over again so that the wizarding world could be at peace again. Finally, she understood the burden Harry had felt. And for the first time ever, she didn't know how he had handled it. She had thought he was too good, too kind, too strong. She knew it was hard for him sometimes. She knew he had struggled so much, especially after Sirius died. But he had endured. He had overcome every hardship, every obstacle, every single thing they threw at him. And he had come out stronger for it.

She, however, wasn't sure how much strength she had in her anymore. That was how she knew the time to bring Harry back was coming soon. Harry had had her and Ron when he was dealing with his burdens. She was alone. And she wasn't as strong as him. She wasn't made for this. Only Harry could fix this. Only he could make her sacrifices worth it. And only he could forgive her for the things she had had.

* * *

**Hope you liked it! Let me know what you thought!**


	19. Tell Me You're Mine

Hermione Granger did not like to be wrong. She knew she rarely was, as conceited as that sounded. But she wasn't called the brightest witch of her age for no reason. She _was_ the brightest witch of the age. She _did_ have a tendency to be right. She needed to be right. She did not like not knowing something. That was partly why their Horcrux hunt had been so frustrating. She didn't know enough, barely anything really. When the puzzle came together, and Harry went off to face Voldemort for what the snake believed would be the last time, sure she had felt despair, beyond anything she had ever felt before, but she also felt a faint spell of relief. Finally, she knew what they had been missing.

That being said, she had always thought she was fairly good at reading people and predicting their next move. She had practiced often on Ron and Harry along with the other students. Sometimes, she even could read the Professors. But that all changed when she met Draco Malfoy again. Time and time again, he was surprising her. First, she had thought he recognized her for who she was, but he hadn't. He had kissed her. Then, she had thought he would kill her for being on the other side, but he hadn't. He had offered her a place to be his mistress for her freedom and secret. Then, she had thought he would kill her for trying to kill him, but he hadn't. He, instead, took her to a party and comforted her after she killed a man. And then she found out he was engaged. She had thought that would be the tip of the iceberg, unless she found out something ludicrous like he was actually an undercover agent or something.

But then, once again, he had surprised her. She had thought he would be a million miles away from her right now, after having lunch with her, her fake boyfriend, and his fiancé. Or at least back at his Manor with Astoria. Instead, here he stood at her doorstep, smirking at her as she just stared at him.

"Well? Aren't you going to let me in?" he asked drily.

"How did you find me?" she asked, frozen in her spot. She remembered once before that he had told her he could find her if he wanted, but she hadn't really expected him to, not when she was complying with his terms.

"You're not the easiest person to find," he admitted, still smirking. "But I daresay I have a few more resources at my disposal than the regular wizard."

"Why are you here?" she felt uncomfortable with him here. Sure, she always kept her belongings hidden in case her identity was ever blown. But still, contained in these four walls were the last remnants of Hermione Granger. It was too dangerous to have him here.

"For your impeccable hospitality of course," he rolled his eyes. "Are you going to let me in or not?"

She moved to the side and allowed him entrance, though her mind was reeling. What was he doing here? She closed the door before him. "Why are you here?" she asked again.

"This is not what I imagined for you," he looked around her flat, completely ignoring her question. "I suppose this is the best you could do under the circumstances, and it _does_ have a homey feel to it, but I expected something a little less – grand."

"You think _this_ is grand?" she chortled. The place was just a bit larger than a broomcloset in Hogwarts. "What did you expect me to live in? A cardboard box?"

"Do people actually do that?" he smirked. "That must be rather uncomfortable."

"Not everyone inherits manors larger than the Buckingham Palace," she said drily.

"That must be rather – inconvenient," he said sardonically.

She sighed. He was trying to get her off track. What he _needed_ to be talking about was why he had just shown up to her dwelling mere hours after she had had lunch with him, his fiancé, and her fake boyfriend. Whatever she may have expected, it was not joking about the hardships of life if you weren't born a filthy rich Malfoy. "Why are you here, Malfoy?"

"Draco," he said quietly, his eyes suddenly staring intently into her own.

"What?"

"Since you're dating my best friend, I suppose it is only fitting you call me by my first name," he said slowly. She could hear the anger simmering under his tone.

She opened her mouth several times but closed it when words would not form. Finally, she took a deep breath and tried again. "He tricked me into going there," she said quietly. "I didn't know you and Astoria would be coming or that he was going to tell her I was his girlfriend."

"Why were you even with him?" he demanded as he started pacing the room.

She looked at him for a long time as he moved back and forth through the apartment. He was tense, his shoulders squared back. His face was a cold mask. It—it couldn't be, could it? There was no way. "Are you – _jealous_?" she couldn't keep from asking.

He growled and spun to face her, his expression livid. He marched over to her and grabbed her by the arms, pulling her close to him. "I am _not_ jealous of Blaise Zabini." Every word came out bitingly, as if he was forcing the truth of them on himself too.

She just gasped, looking at him, truly afraid. He _was_ jealous, though she had no idea why. What did he care if his _fiancé_ thought she was dating his best friend? Wasn't this perfect? It wasn't as if any of it was real. She was his slave, his mistress, his _slag_. Wouldn't it make sense to have a viable explanation for her presence if Astoria saw her often? Being Blaise's girlfriend seemed as plausible an excuse as any. Shouldn't he be happy about this? After all, now he wouldn't have to explain to his betrothed why a mysterious woman was such a constant visitor into their life. "You _are_," she said boldly.

He growled and pulled her to him, his lips crushing hers. She gasped as he forced her mouth open, his tongue showing his dominance as he pushed her back against the door. "Shut up," he said against her lips before trailing down to suck on her neck. She moved when he nipped the skin under her ear. "I am ten times the man Blaise Zabini is," he grinded his hips against her thigh. One of his hands held her hip, and she knew she would have bruises from his fingers. The other moved to her breast, kneading the skin roughly through her blouse. She moaned, her head hitting the door. The pain was everywhere, but the fire had already begun spreading. She didn't want him to stop, she wanted more.

She raked her nails over his back, trying to pull him closer as he moved back up to claim her lips. "Mine," he growled against her lips. "Say it. You're mine."

She gasped as he twisted her nipple through her shirt, unable to speak. She would have never thought being with Blaise, even if he knew it was fake, would cause this kind of reaction from him. Why should it? She was just his mistress after all, to do away with when he was done. He would have Astoria then, and he expected she would have nothing. Why did it matter to him if his fiancé thought she was dating Blaise? Especially if it would silent certain unwanted questions.

"Say it," he demanded, his hand leaving her breast and moving down, under her waist band. He teased her nub through her cotton knickers. "Mine. Only mine."

"Yours!" she screamed, knowing he would torture her if she didn't. But Jean Wyler was weak. Maybe if she had still been Hermione Granger, she could have held onto what little pride she had left. But she had accepted now that she was no longer the same witch she had been before.

His lips moved to her neck, leaving rough kisses along her jaw. "Blaise Zabini," he said slowly, "is _nothing_ like me. Can he make you feel this? Can he touch you like this? Can he make you scream and moan like this?" He shoved her knickers aside and ran his finger over her slit. She moaned, closing her eyes. "Answer me!"

"No," she moaned. "Only you."

"Don't ever forget that," he growled before pushed two fingers into her. She could feel her wetness gathering between her legs as he fucked her with his fingers. Oh Merlin, the things he could do to her, the things he made her feel. It shamed her to her very core, but she no longer cared. She did what she had to in order to survive. If she reaped some reward for it, if she could have these feelings, for her soul, then she was willing to make the exchange.

He lifted her with one arm, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to her bed. It was odd, being here for this when every other time they had been surrounded by the lavishness of his manor. But even that thought soon left her mind as he pulled her knickers off and shoved another finger into her. He lips were once again on hers, bruising her, claiming her. She reached down with her own hand and touched him through his trousers. She could feel his raw need in her hand and she shivered in anticipation. He moaned as she squeezed him, and began thrusting in her faster. Using his thumb, Draco rubbed her swollen clit, trying to make her cum after. It was clear he needed her, and he needed her now. She felt so close to the brink now, throwing her head back against her bed as he brought her to the edge.

As she went over, she sadly realized that it was true. Only he did make her cum like this. Only he could make her feel like this. It sickened her that this is what she felt, but at the same time, she felt an odd pleasure in it. She did not really understand it, but the thought that it was the man almost every witch in Hogwarts would have killed for had chosen her. He chose to pleasure her like this. He chose to consider her needs and not just his own. She knew it could have been a lot worse if he didn't. But here he was, making sure she was wet enough for him, making sure it wasn't too painful for her, making sure she fel every bit as good as he did. She sighed as she finally came down from her high.

He did not wait long after that though. In seconds he had his trousers off and in one swift movement, he thrust himself all the way into her throbbing core. He growled as he felt her around him, and she couldn't help but let out a loud moan. How he filled her so perfectly, she would never know, but she didn't care. She loved it. She craved it. She needed it.

His thrusts began slow, his eyes locked on hers. She could feel each movement, could feel him slide in deeper into her. She begged him for more. Draco leaned down and kissed her as he started thrusting faster. Hermione had to hold onto his shoulders to keep herself from spinning. He was so good at this, so perfect. He could elicit the loudest moans from her, he could make her feel as if she needed nothing more than to feel his cock in her always. His lips left hers as he moved to her jaw, leaving small kisses along her jaw. She groaned as he sucked on her neck, feeling herself come closer to the edge with every thrust.

Then, he went lower, taking first one then her other pebbled nipple into his mouth, his tongue doing wonderful things as he picked up his pace even more. He was pounding her into the bed now with hard, fast thrusts. And yet, it was not enough. He went lower then, leaning back on his legs, and pulling her into an impossible angle.

"Draco!" she cried out loudly, seeing stars as his tongue moved to her clit. He kept thrusting into her using only the muscles of his arms and legs and she felt tears come to her eyes. Never before had she felt so _good_. She was so close now, her hands pushing herself up to her hands, trying to keep in this angle. Her back ached, but she did not care. She just wanted more. She wanted this forever. She screamed as she came hard, feeling as if she would black out from the intensity of it. The only thing that kept her conscious was his tongue still on her swollen nub. He thrusted into her a few more times before he groaned deeply and spilled his seed into her.

He let her drop onto the bed then, both of them breathing heavily. He moved to the side so he did not fall on her as he collapsed on the bed. But he kept his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him as he nuzzled his face into her neck. He was asleep within seconds.

Hermione Granger was rarely wrong. She worked hard until she knew she wouldn't be. But if someone had asked her if Draco Malfoy would have fallen asleep in her small little flat after fucking her into oblivion, she would have told them right where they could shove their head. She would not have known it would have been the most wrong thing she ever said.

* * *

**Hey guys! I know, I know it's been forever since I updated this. Thanks to everyone who came back to read this and stuck with me even though I suck at updating :D I know I said I had it all planned out, and I do, but I just wasn't sure how to write it to get it out. Sorry about that! I think I've gotten back on track though, and there should be updates more regularly now, promise! I made the chapter a little longer than usual for you guys this time to make up for it! :D**

**Anyways, please review and let me know what you thought! (I haven't written smut in a while, got to get back into it lol so forgive me if it doesn't sound as hot =\) But yeah, let me know what you thought! Okay thanks byee 3**


	20. Caught In This Web

**Just a summary of what's happened:**

**Ron was killed in the war, and Harry went to meet Voldemort. He made Hermione promise to live, for him. Hermione preformed a very complex Dark Magic spell that could bring him back from the death through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. They agreed she would bring him back when the time was right. Then she left the final battle after she changed her appearance with an unknown witch. Just like that, to the world, the entire golden trio was dead.**

**She changed her name to Jean Wyler and bought a flat in Knockturn Alley. For the past year, she been kept to herself, and made sure no one recognized her all the while gathering as much information as she could about the new regime. She was looking for the other side to show some kind of weakness so she could bring Harry back and they could save the world. **

**While in Knockturn Alley one day, she runs into Draco Malfoy, who recognizes her from the final battle, though he does not know she is Hermione Granger. He tells her to come to his Manor where he makes a proposition for her. If she becomes his mistress, he will not out her for being a bloodtraitor. She reluctantly agrees. She sometimes talks to Harry and Ron, seeing them as if they were there, though she knows they are only a figment of her imagination. One day, she tries to kill Draco but she can't. The next night, she is taken to a party where Voldemort is. Nott has told Voldemort about this girl, who he claims, is as bloodthirsty as Bellatrix Lestrange. Voldemort makes her kill a man, after which, Draco comforts her.**

**Astoria comes to town, and Hermione learns that Astoria is engaged to Draco. Blaise tricks her into going to lunch with him, where they meet Draco and Astoria. Blaise tells them she is his girlfriend. This makes Draco angry, and visits her flat that night, where he shows her who's she really is.**

* * *

Hermione had always loved mornings. She always woke up early, trying to catch glimpses of the morning sun. She had always believed waking up early was the best way to start the day, where she could be refreshed and have enough time to do anything she wanted to do that day. Her mom had always told her 'the early bird always catches the worm'. She really believed that too.

Today, however, she would have rather never woken up than woken up early to see Draco Malfoy still in her flat, his arm around her waist and his body molded to hers against her. She tried not to move as to not wake him. She didn't want to admit it, but she knew she was being a coward. She did not want him to wake up and realize he had spent the night with her. She did not want to face him after this. They had crossed a line last night, when he had stayed here, when he had shown her his jealousy. And she knew there was no going back from it.

She looked at him as he slept, and she thought he looked more peaceful than she had ever seen him. It was hard to believe the relaxed man next to her was a killer. It was hard to believe that the man who's face had a small smile upon it and his hair falling only his face could be Voldemort's first lieutenant. She also realized, quite reluctantly, that he was rather beautiful. She had always known he was good looking, even back in Hogwarts. She had always heard the whispers of girls in the castle. But she had never let herself acknowledge it, not when he had always been the enemy. And yet, now, she could no longer deny it. Draco Malfoy was beautiful. She could see him stirring because his hair was in his eyes. She reached over to move his hair, but hesitated. She could not believe where they had come to.

Draco stirred and slowly opened his eyes. He looked at her through his groggy eyes and for a moment, went tense next o her. She braced herself for whatever was to come. Slowly, he detached himself from her and sat up, though he made no inclination to get up. "I stayed here last night," he said softly.

"Yes."

"You let me." It was not a question.

But she answered anyway. "Yes."

He sighed and rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up fully. She sat up and stared at him. "Why did you?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," he admitted after a long time. He turned to look at her, his silver eyes holding hers.

She had to look away first from his stare. She hugged her knees to her chest, not wanting to look at him. How did it come to this?

"I should go," he said quietly, getting out of the bed.

"Alright."

He dressed quickly, keeping his back to her. Only when he was done did he turn back to look at her. "Astoria leaves tomorrow. Come to the Manor."

She did not respond as he stared at her for another moment before departing. She breathed freely only when he was gone. Yes, they had crossed a line last night. And she wasn't sure they could ever go back.

* * *

She had come to The Three Broomsticks today to get away from it all, and to be close to her school. To Harry. She had taken his Invisibility Cloak before coming to the pub to walk by the majestic castle. She had seen where they had kept his body for months after his death. She had seen the ruins of the castle where she had gained so much knowledge, where she had met Harry and Ron.

She sighed as Madam Rosmerta poured her another firewhiskey. "Touch day, love?" the old barmaid asked. Hermione was surprised she was still here, but then, being the fancy of every male to ever go to Hogwarts had to have its perks, huh? Still, the bar itself had become dodgier than the Hog's Head.

"Touch year," Hermione mumbled.

"I've seen you around here," Rosmerta said contemplatively. "Did you go to Hogwarts?"

"Once upon a time," she said vaguely. She had learned, to their detriment, that it was never safe to assume you wouldn't be overheard in any bar.

Rosmerta was called away by another customer then. Hermione sighed and took her drink down. "My, my, my, never thought I'd see you here," a familiar voice called to her.

She groaned and turned to see Blaise sitting down next to her. "Please leave me alone."

"Why Jean, what's with the attitude?" Blaise signaled to Rosmerta for a drink. "I thought you'd be happy to see your beloved boyfriend."

"You tricked me!" she exclaimed after Rosmerta handed him a drink. "You knew they were going to come in there."

"Who's to say what I knew," Blaise shrugged, smirking. "Anyway, now that you're here, I don't have to hunt you down to find you."

"And why would you need to find me?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Draco and Astoria are having a party tonight," Blaise said nonchalantly. "Astoria has explicitly expressed her hopes that my _girlfriend_ comes with me."

"Well you better find yourself a girlfriend then," she said coolly.

Blaise laughed. "Sassy, I like it. You know what I mean Jean."

"Do I?"

"You'll be going with me," he said smoothly.

"Oh will I?" she did not mind being her old self with him. He wouldn't figure it out. And, he had tricked her.

"Yes, you will," all smoothness was gone. He was suddenly the Death Eater again. And she was suddenly Jean Wyler again, afraid and quiet. "Astoria thinks you are my girlfriend, after all. She expects to see you, the first girl to hold my interest for more than a night. She wouldn't like to hear who you really are, would she?"

"Fine," she mumbled. "I'll be there."

"Excellent," he grinned, all charm again. He put down a few galleons for Rosmerta before getting up. "Dress nice, I'll pick you up at 7."

"Wait where are you going to pick me up?" she asked, alarmed. Draco seeing where she lived was one thing, but Blaise? She didn't have the same security deal with him as she did with Draco.

"At your little flat in Knockturn Alley," Blaise said, smirking slightly.

Jean's eyes widened. "How do you-."

"You're not the easiest person to follow, but I have my resources," Blaise smirked.

"I'll meet you downstairs at 7," she said softly. This was not good. Too many people knew where she was.

"See you then, beautiful girlfriend of mine," he said before walking away.

She sighed and downed the last of her drink. The alcohol burned her throat but she didn't care. She had never really been much of a drinker, but now she felt like she needed it to make it through this day. And she was sure it was going to be a long one.

* * *

She went downstairs at 6:55. She had not wanted to take the chance of him walking up in case she was late. She had decided to wear a blue dress she had from before, one of the few possessions she had gotten when she had snuck back to her parents' house after the final battle, before everything went too bad. She knew it was a luxury, taking the dress. She wouldn't need such frivolous things, not when her only goal was surviving. But she couldn't help herself. She had loved the dress her mother had bought her the summer before she went on the Horcrux hunt, before she erased their memory and sent them to Australia. And she had taken it then.

"You look beautiful," Blaise said, walking over to her. He was dressed in crisp, elegant black dress robes. "I'm sure every witch there will pale compared to you."

"Cut the crap, Blaise," she rolled her eyes. "Let's just get this over with."

He laughed and offered her his arm. "You know, Jean, I love it when you take charge." And he Apparated them away.

They arrived at the Malfoy Manor and walked in. She gripped his arm subconsciously. Once again, she was going to be thrown into the center of the Death Eater regime. He just smirked at her as he led her in. "We'll have to make several introductions, I'm afraid," he said, sounding eager. "Apparently, Astoria has run her mouth a bit about my finally getting a girlfriend."

"Maybe you shouldn't be such a dick about girls then," she mumbled as they approached a group of Death Eaters.

Hermione recognized several of them. Some of them she had gone to school with, like Goyle, Flint, and Harper. Some of them, however, she did not know. Blaise smiled to them. "Gentlemen," he greeted them. "Good to see you."

"Blaise," Flint acknowledged, smirking as his eyes travelled over her figure. "Who's your friend?"

"Let me introduce you all to my girlfriend, Jean Wyler," Blaise said, smirking.

"So you're the girl that finally got Blaise to settle down," one of the ones she didn't recognize smirked. "How'd you manage that?"

"Wait, weren't you with Draco at Blaise's party?" Goyle asked suspiciously. Hermione could not believe that this had been the first time Goyle actually showed perception.

"That was my doing, actually," Blaise cut in. "I wasn't quite ready to out our relationship yet, so Draco, being the incredible friend he is, said he'd escort her."

"Talking about me, Blaise?" Draco came over to them. He had Astoria on his arm. Hermione quickly looked down after a small smile. "Honestly, I thought you'd finally be over your obsession with me now that you have a girl."

Blaise laughed. "Oh but Drakey, you know _our_ love is the only thing that's real."

"If you're done trying to steal my fiancé, Blaise," Astoria rolled her eyes. "Besides, I thought Jean was all you needed now."

"Right you are, Astoria," Blaise chuckled. Hermione saw Draco's eyes darken. She suddenly regretted coming tenfold now. She could just imagine what he was thinking right now.

"So tell us, Jean," Astoria smiled brightly at her. "How _did _you get Blaise here to settle down?"

"Yes, tell us," Nott smiled evilly as he came over to them. She saw both Blaise and Draco glare darkly at the newcomer. "I'm sure we'd all love to hear this.

"Nott," Draco acknowledged. She could hear the warning in his tone. Nott, however, did not seem to care.

"Come now, Jean," Nott continued. "We're all dying to hear this."

She looked around at all the waiting faces, and she knew she had no choice. She would have to answer him. Blaise was too busy silently cursing him in his head to be of much help. "Well," she started slowly. "We met at uh – Flourish and Blotts, and at first, I er – wasn't really interested. I had heard about him, you know. But he was quite persistent."

Blaise chuckled, suddenly remembering himself. "Had some rather cheeky refusals under her belt before she finally said yes."

"And I finally gave him a chance," she said, finding herself more as she fell more easily into the lie. After all, for the last year she had been living a complete lie. She had gotten rather good at it. "And the rest is really history."

"And now if you'll excuse us," Blaise smirked slightly. "I think we'll be getting a drink now."

He led her away from them before they could respond. She breathed deeply when she was away from them. "That was good," Blaise said quietly. "Good thinking on your feet."

"You didn't think they'd want to know our amazing love story?" she asked coldly.

"I didn't think Nott would be going against _me_," he admitted. "But then, I suppose it's just another way to hurt Draco."

"Blaise, hold on a minute," Nott caught up to them.

Blaise growled at him. "You better stay away from me, Nott. I'm not too sure I won't kick your arse right here."

"Relax, mate," Nott smirked. "We both know you're not going to do anything, but smile nicely."

"Oh?"

"No, because you wouldn't want me to run my mouth to Astoria, would you?" Nott said, raising an eyebrow. "Neither would Draco."

"Theo, if you ruin this, so help me, I swear on the Dark Lord himself that you will regret it," Blaise said threateningly. Hermione quivered slightly under the tone. She had never seen Blaise so dangerous. It was unnerving. But it also made her realize – Blaise cared about Draco. This really was about helping his best mate. Sure, he was getting his kicks out of watching her squirm, but he primarily wanted to help Draco.

Nott glared angrily at Blaise. "What are you going to do? Steal my girlfriend? Kill me?"

"Oh no, Theo," Blaise chuckled dangerously. "What I do to you will make you _wish _I just killed you."

He glared at them before walking away. Hermione looked at Blaise. "You shouldn't have done that."

"You'd rather he tell Astoria who you _really _are?" Blaise raised an eyebrow.

"No, but he'll want revenge now," Hermione reminded him.

"I can handle Theodore Nott," Blaise rolled his eyes.

She just shrugged and let him lead her to get drinks. What had she gotten herself into? It seemed like everything she did brought her deeper and deeper into the circle of these people. She needed a few minutes alone, and turned to him, handing him her cup. "I'll be right back," she said.

"Where are you going?" he asked suspiciously.

"Bathroom." She left quickly before he could respond.

She waited until she was alone in the hallway away from the ballroom before sighing and leaning against the bathroom door. She was tired of this. She needed Harry back already. She needed all of this to be over already. She had agreed to any of this because it was the only way to ensure her survival, but now, she was wondering if she had made the right choice. It felt every which way she turned, she fell deeper and deeper into this sick web.

Suddenly, the door behind her opened and she was pulled into the bathroom. She tried to scream but a hand covered her mouth. She felt fear in every inch of her body. Just as she got ready to cast out every wordless spell she knew, she gasped as she was pressed against the door.

Draco Malfoy stood in front of her, his hand on her waist, telling her to be quiet.

* * *

**Yes, I know, another chapter very quickly. Just making up for my shotty updating for months and as a thank you to everyone who read the last chapter. :D**

**I also just added the summary because of a review I got that said it would have been good to add one. I know it's been a while so instead of having to reread like 18 chapters, I decided I should just add a small review for you all :D**

**Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please review and let me know what you thought! Thanks 3**


	21. Across The Line

There were very few things in the world that could render Hermione Granger speechless. In fact, up to this moment, there were only 3 things that had ever rendered her speechless. One was whenever Harry or Ron knew something she didn't. One was when someone told her knowledge was not important. And one had been when she had sat down in her little flat in Knockturn Alley shortly after she left the final battle and realized fully what she had done. Now, she regretted to say, there was a new one to add to the list. It was Draco Malfoy pressing her against the door of the bathroom with his hands on her hips, his lips on hers, and his growing erection pressing into her stomach while there was a party going on downstairs in his own Manor where his fiancé was. It wasn't only that that had rendered her speechless. It was also the fact that it excited her so much. She craved it, his touch, his kiss, his very presence. She had known something had changed between them. She had felt it before. But until now, she had not truly realized how far they had come.

"Wait," she gasped when his lips finally left hers to her neck.

"What?" he growled against her skin, though he stopped his ministrations.

"Your fiancé is downstairs," she reminded him. She knew he knew that already, but she felt the need to have it stated. To have it out there, to let them both know what this meant.

"So is your 'boyfriend'," he said the word as if it disgusted him. His hands gripped her hips tighter, though he kept his lips still. She knew he was doing the same thing. They both knew Astoria was downstairs, and that all their guests were there, and that Blaise was there. They both knew Astoria was actually his betrothed and that Blaise was her fake boyfriend. They both knew this would complete the steps of changing the relationship between them. And they both knew they needed the other's answer before they continued now that it had been brought up.

"He's not my boyfriend," she said quietly, as if to tell him it did not bother her if Blaise was there. After all, Blaise was nothing to her, just a means to explain why she would be around Draco, and a means to her survival.

That was enough for Draco. He bit lightly into her neck before licking the skin over it and sucking it into his mouth. She moaned, her arms wrapping around him and into his hair. One of his hands moved down to her thigh and pulled it up, wrapping it around his waist. She wrapped her other leg around him as well, loving the feel of his erection against her. It made her wet just in anticipation. He pressed himself harder into her to brace her against the door. He brought his hand up to knead one of her breasts through her dress as he moved up to claim her lips again. "You look too good," he growled. "You're taunting me, aren't you? Coming here, looking like this, on _his_ arm. You wanted this reaction from me. You wanted this."

She just moaned, unable to deny this. In truth, she hadn't done anything to taunt him, but she could not lie and say she had not hoped it would. He pulled her dress up around her hips and ground himself against her core. Her knickers were a restraint to her. She needed to feel him against her skin. She needed him in her. But he teased her, he pressed himself against her, thrust against her, moaned lowly in her ear. She groaned in frustration. They didn't have time for this, and she did not have the patience. She needed him, now. She was ready already, she was soaked, and she needed him in her. She knew he wanted her to beg, to admit she had done this to taunt him, but something in her refused to give in, despite the need that was reaching desperation. If he didn't break soon, she definitely would. Wanting to win this game, she tugged on his hair and pulled his head forward until her lips were to his ear. Daringly, she nipped on his earlobe, and whispered. "Fuck me."

He groaned before reaching down and pulling her knickers to the side. In one swift move, he entered her and buried himself to the hilt. His lips had moved to her neck, and she could feel his hot groan against her neck. She tightened her fists in his hair, holding him to her as he began his thrusts, slow and deliberate.

"You're not his," he whispered as he sped up, his hands gripping her hips hard. She knew her skin would bruise later but she didn't care. As always, he made her forget everything else, everything but him and her and his cock, which seemed to hold her only shred of happiness. "I don't care how many parties he brings you to. You'll never be his."

"Only yours," she promised.

He growled as one hand moved to her core, rubbing her clit. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. She was nearing her orgasm, and every cell in her body was on fire. His Thrusts were growing faster and harder each time, hitting her g spot every single. She could feel him tense, reaching his end too. She was so close now, so close. Hermione knew he needed her to cum before he did. Finally, she cried out when he pinched her bundle of nerves, causing her to fall over the edge. He thrust into her a few more times before coming as well. She felt him shudder against her before he buried his face into her neck and breathed heavily.

They stood there for a few moments like that, with her legs around his hips, her fingers tangled in his hair, his hands on her hips, and his face on her neck. Finally, he let her down, and she straightened her dress. Her knickers were ruined, and as she looked in the mirror, she saw her hair was all over the place. She was not surprised to see that she looked as if she had been thoroughly fucked. But she _was_ disgruntled to see that he looked perfectly put together save for the slight flush that had taken hold on his face. He fixed his robes quickly before looking at her. "If he touches you, I wil kill him. Inform you _boyfriend_." Again, his tone sounded like the word disgusted him.

She nodded silently and moved aside so he could leave. He was needed at his party, especially since his fiancé was there, but she needed the few minutes alone before she went to find Blaise. She waited till she heard the click of the door closing before sighing and leaning against the wall. How did he do it? How did he make everything else seem so unimportant when he was with her, when he was _in _her? She realized slowly that he had seeped into every pore of her body. She took a deep breath and looked into the mirror. "Get a grip, Hermione," she whispered to her reflection. "You're _not _Jean Wyler. You need to stay focused. You're only doing this so you can save Harry." Harry. He was what was important, and she realized Harry was who she needed to talk to right now. She needed her best friend.

"When you call, I'll always come, Hermione," he was suddenly behind her.

She looked at him through the mirror. "What is wrong with me?"

"You've been alone for a long time," her Harry told her, a sad smile on his face. "It's normal to crave human contact."

"But _his_?" she asked.

"Even Ginny told he she thought he was an attractive bloke," Harry shrugged. "Even if he is a git."

She smiled and sighed. "I need you back, Harry. I need you here. It's not the same without you. Not even if I can conjure you up in my mind."

"Is it safe?" he asked after a moment. His green eyes looked thoughtful. "Is it time?"

"I think it almost is," she said after thinking about it.

"Well, when it is," he smiled at her. "Come and get me. I told you, Hermione. I'll always come when you call. In the meantime, however, maybe you should get back to the party before your fake boyfriend starts to wonder if you're trying to do yourself in."

She laughed. "He might actually wish it."

"Nah, not while you look like that, at least," Harry smirked. "You look beautiful, Hermione. I'm sure he wants to show you off for tonight."

"The mudblood in the den of the snakes," she grumbled. "It's like I'm a bloody novelty."

"I'll fix that," he promised. "When you call me back, I promise, I'll fix that."

"I know," she smiled. That was her Harry, always ready to help everyone. It was one of the things she loved about him. Even with the hardships of his life, and the burdens he had to bear, he still had the compassion and heart of 50 men. He disappeared then and she quickly fixed her hair and dress. Back to the snake's hole, she thought as she left the bathroom and went back to the party to find Blaise.

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**Kind of a filler and kind of short, I know. I couldn't really put the next part because it's too important and too long. I think that one's definitely going to need its own chapter and since it's the next day, that shall be the next chapter but I already started writing it because I have the idea in my head and I'm too excited now not too :D Anyways, I did promise I'd be better at updating :D Thanks for reading and I hope you guys enjoyed it! Please review and let me know what you thought! (And be prepared because in the next chapter, shit will get SERIOUS.) **


	22. Who She Was

Blaise Zabini was surprisingly a gentleman. Yes, he could be cruel, and yes, Hermione was sure he had his own reasons for pretending she was his girlfriend that had nothing to do with helping Draco, despite what he said. And yes, he was a Death Eater, and a true Slytherin at heart. But he had treated her with surprising respect when she had returned from the bathroom. Sure he made several jokes about how she looked thoroughly fuck, and about how she was radiating a glow that only came from a nice long fuck. And sure he teased Draco about it subtly even when Astoria was there, who, Hermione realized, did not notice what Blaise was referring to. In fact, Astoria was barely paying attention. And sure, Blaise continued to present her like an award winning animal at a county fair throughout the night to various Death Eaters.

But through the entire night, not once had he touched her inappropriately. She had not even had to tell him of Draco's warning. It seemed as if he already knew how far this little charade could go before Draco would do something unpleasant to him. And so, he had simply kept his hand on the small of her back the entire night which kept unwanted people from approaching her. He had pulled out her chair for her to sit before he sat next to her. He had talked with her the entire night, or at least included her in every conversation he had so she did not feel awkward. Simply put, he had been a respectable gentleman. It was slightly unnerving, but still, she was thankful for it.

He had told her many things last night at the party, and one of them included the fact that Astoria was leaving in the morning to head back to France. He had also alluded to some mission he had to complete in the morning, but he wouldn't anything about it, not that she could ask without him getting suspicious. But still, that would explain why she was woken up by an owl pecking at her window. She detached the note and the owl flew away.

_Come in an hour. _

She sighed, knowing it could only be from Draco, though he had not signed it. So Astoria had clearly left already. Obviously Draco was going to begin summoning her at all hours of the day again.

She got ready quickly, and left for the Manor. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. She was not met by any guards at the Manor though, which was rather odd. In fact, when she stepped into his home, she was pretty sure there was no one there but him and the house elves. Sure, she did not usually see others at the Manor, but she was sure there were usually at least 2 or 3 guards bustling around the property. Maybe it was the mission Blaise was talking about. Maybe more men were needed. But then, wouldn't Draco have gone too? She pushed the thought to the side however when he appeared to her.

"You're here," he said simply, a pamphlet folded neatly under his arm. She knew the Daily Prophet was run by Death Eaters now, and full of no actual information. Instead, the only thing that had darkened its pages for months now were various articles about how muggles and mudbloods were the scum of the earth. But she knew Death Eaters had their own paper of sorts that would tell them about various missions and information Voldemort wanted them to have.

"You did call me," she shrugged.

"Yes," he said, an odd expression passing over his face. "Jean-," he started but he was cut off by a loud bang in the other room. With one last look at her, he quickly went to investigate. Since he hadn't actually forbidden her from coming, she followed him. They were in the ballroom again, and she felt her insides coil. This was where Bellatrix had tortured her. This was where she had had the words Mudblood carved into her wrist. She could almost feel the Cruciatus Curse being cast on her again, and she winced from the memory. But now, Bellatrix was dead. Now, the ballroom was not where she, Harry, and Ron had been brought by Snatchers. Now, the ballroom was filled with people, both Death Eaters and not. She saw Blaise there, and he cast her a quick smile before looking back to Draco. There were many Death Eaters standing around the room. She recognized almost all of them from the night before. The people she did not recognize were the people kneeling on the floor with their hands tied behind their backs, and bloody faces. They were looking around as if they could not see, and she realized suddenly that there was a spell cast on them to make them blind to their senses. She had read about the curse before, years ago in a dark magic book from the Restricted Section. Clearly, these particular prisoners had put up a good fight, as she saw that many of the Death Eaters had also sustained injuries. She silently commended them in her head.

Draco was glaring hard at Blaise. "You brought them _here_?"

"We had to," Blaise said easily. He did not quiver in fear at the tone of Draco's words as many of the Death Eaters did. "The prison was compromised."

"How?" he demanded, and Hermione saw his hands ball into fists. She listened intently. Compromised? That meant someone had deliberately done it, and that meant a deliberate attack on the new order.

"The prisoners disappear," Blaise explained. "When you put them in the cells, they disappear and out of custody. We realized cause this one," he nudged one of the prisoners with his foot, "was already arrested before by Harper before. We can't figure out how it's happening. I've never seen a spell like it, Draco. No magic works there unless you have the Mark, you know that. And yet, these prisoners are just getting set free right in front of us."

Draco seemed to think this over. "You're sure of this?"

"Yes."

"The Dark Lord will need to be informed," Draco said quietly. Hermione saw several of the Death Eaters shuffle nervously, and suddenly she knew why they had come _here_. They expected Draco to carry the news. Only Blaise remained impassive. But she could see the worried expression on his face. Draco glanced at her before turning his hard eyes on the others. "Leave," he dismissed them firmly. Many of them nodded before all but Blaise remained.

Draco sighed, and she saw him visibly relax. "What do we do with them?" he inquired of Blaise.

"Hold them here till we find a secure place to throw them," Blaise shrugged. "We should probably interrogate them first though."

Again, Draco glanced at her. "I suppose we should do that first, before we put them in the dungeons." He sighed, and pinched the bridge between his nose. "I really wish you hadn't brought them here, Blaise."

"I had no choice," Blaise said apologetically. "It was either here, kill them, or letting them go, and trust me, after the fight this lot put up, we could not let them go. And we need the information. You know that."

"Next time, give me a bit warning, would you?"

"Next time, I'll send a whole bloody singing quartet to warn you," Blaise promised, smirking slightly.

Draco looked over the prisoners. "Take off the charm," he ordered Blaise.

But Blaise hesitated, looking briefly at her. Draco followed his gaze and then looked back at Blaise. "Do it."

She tried to hide the surprise from her face. He was going to interrogate them in front of her? Was this a show of trust? It couldn't be. But then, Hermione remembered when he had made her stay when he dealt with Nott. Maybe he wanted her to see his power, and to see what would happen if she defied him.

Blaise removed the charm and suddenly the dozen or so prisoners could see. The room was filled with screams, and Hermione had to fight to not cover her ears. Draco pulled out his wand, and suddenly, the room was silent. "You're not going to talk until I tell you to," he said menacingly. Silently, they all glared at him, the hatred clear in their eyes.

She winced when she saw one of them glaring at her. _I'm one of you_, she wanted to tell them. She wanted to tell them who she was and what she was going to do. She was going to bring back Harry, for them, for herself, for all of them. He would save them. But she had to keep this charade going. She had to, and it sickened her. Because now, she saw how powerful the rebellion was. She saw people who were still clearly willing to fight. Oh if she could just talk to them, and find out more. Maybe she could go and get Harry now. He could help them, he would.

"Now, tell me what I want to know, and you'll live," Draco continued. "Where is your headquarters?"

He removed the silencing spell, but they did not speak. "Where are you and the other rebels based?" he demanded again.

One of them spit on the floor. Blaise cast a Cruciatus at him, and the man writhed in pain.

"Tell me." Draco demanded.

"We will never speak," the man who had spit said. "We would rather die than help the likes of you, Death Eater."

Draco cast a curse at him, unfazed. The man groaned in pain. "That could be arranged."

"You will meet your end," another man spoke. "You will pay for the evils you have committed."

"Yeah?" Draco smirked slightly. "When? When you're all wiped out? When the Dark Lord rules for all of time? When I make you suffer for even daring to defy us?"

Hermione could hear him but she was not paying attention. She was instead watching one of the men. He continued to stare at her, pure hatred in his eyes. He wasn't even paying attention to Draco or his comrades. No, his attention was focused solely on her. Finally, he spoke. "You," he said, venom in this voice. She looked around before she decided he was definitely speaking to her. "How could you, you bitch?"

Every eye in the room turned to her. She looked at Draco, who watched her suspiciously, and at Blaise, who's expression was blank. "You betrayed us to save your own skin? You turned into their whore?" he was shouting now. He spat at her feet. "What your mother would say if she were alive. How dare you? You ungrateful _whore_! You fucking dare to even look me in the eyes, you bitch? We thought you were dead! We mourned you! We fought _for you__. _And now I find you've been here the whole time, fucking a Death Eater. What fine silks you wear, you bitch."

She was shocked into silence. He clearly knew her. Not her Hemione, but the girl who's face she had stolen. Who was he? Her father? Her brother? Her lover? He was older than her by far, and Hermione did not recognize him from the battle. _Who was he? _Whoever he was, he knew her. She had almost forgotten the face she now bore had a life before she had taken it, had had a family, and friends. She had tried not to think about it, to ease her own conscience. And now, it all came spiraling back, full blown. She had stolen a girl's entire life. Of course her family had mourned her, as the remaining Weasleys had probably done for her and Harry and Ron, and everyone else they lost. Of course they had believed her dead. And yet, her face was still here. She tried to remind herself that she had done it for Harry, for all of them. She had done it to save them, to bring back Harry. That was, she told herself, the only thing that was important. But clearly not to this man, not to the people who mourned this girl, who had loved this girl.

"How dare you? You fucking slag. You betrayed us. You betrayed us for a warm bed and a good fuck? I would have killed you myself if I knew this was what you would turn into."

It seemed that Draco had had enough. He cast a Cruciatus Curse at the man, who fell to the ground, groaning in agony. "I don't particularly like the tone you're using."

"How do you know our Jean?" Blaise inquired his eyes only on her. She looked away from him. He was too perceptive for his ow good. And she did not want him to read the emotions that she knew would be written clearly on her face.

"Jean?" the man spat out blood. "Is that what you're calling yourself now? You were too much of a coward to even use your own name, you whore?"

Once again, Draco cursed him. "My friend asked you a question. How do you know her?"

"Before she became your whore, she _was_ my daughter."

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**Told you shit was going to go down :D BUT DW it's not over yet! Hermione's personal hell will continue in the next chapter! What will Hermione do now? How will Draco act to this new piece of information? Just how much does Blaise actually now? All questions that will be answered soon enough :D Hope you guys enjoyed it! Please review and let me know what you thought!**


	23. What Have I Done?

Shortly after Harry had gone off to face his death at the hands of Voldemort, Hermione Granger had also become dead to the world. Unlike Harry however, Hermione Granger was still very much alive. On her way to Hogsmeade to Apparate to Gringotts, she came upon the slain body of a young girl. The girl could not have been much older than herself. She was a beautiful girl with blonde hair, striking green eyes almost as identical to Harry's, and fair features. She looked like one of those girls that a young girl to expect a princess to look like. In a moment of desperation, Hermione had cast a simple spell. The dead girl became Hermione Granger, and Hermione became Jean Wyler. She became the beautiful blonde girl, though she kept only one feature of her own: her eyes. It was a sort of homage to her identity, and a way to remember who she was. And then, Hermione Granger walked away. At first, she did not go far. She waited for someone to come to find her, to cast her name on the long list of the dead from that day. To her horror, it was Arthur Weasley who found her body. She would have preferred anyone else, anyone besides the Weasleys, who had already lost so much. She had seen most of their children fall, though Molly and Arthur survived. They had lost their children, and Harry, and now her. She watched the grieving man fall to his knees and cry out in despair for a few moments, wishing with all her heart that she could go comfort him, that she could tell him that she was alive, that she would bring back Harry, that they hadn't lost everything. But she couldn't. Her mission was too important. She had to survive until she saw a weakness, until she saw a time when she could bring Harry back and they could stop Voldemort once and for all. And so, with a heavy heart, she left.

It was not until later, after she had withdrawn all their gold from Gringotts, and Voldemort and his followers crowned themselves victorious that she sat on her bed in the small flat she had rented in Knockturn Alley and thought about what she had done. Not once in her departure had she thought about the life of the girl who's identity she had stolen. Not once did she stop to think of the despair the girl's family would have to go through when they found their daughter missing. No, in her heroics, she had turned selfish. She had thought of her own pain, her own friends, her own family, her own death. She had looked over the fact that she had stolen a girl's entire life and her peace in death. The girl had died for Harry, and Hermione had stolen that from her. And she didn't even know the girl's name.

Over the long year where Hermione had hidden out as Jean Wyler, she had tried to keep the girl from her mind. But she was reminded of her every time she looked in the mirror. And now, as she stood in the ballroom of the Malfoy Manor, once again, Hermione Granger was faced with the truth. She had taken everything from this girl, and now, she had taken the last thing she had left: her sacrifice. She had turned the girl into a traitor.

She looked at the man who had just proclaimed himself her father. He was looking at her with such hatred, and it pained her to know how he must hate his own daughter now when really she was dead, when she had done nothing he accused her of now. She had died for Harry, and now her own father thought she had betrayed them.

The room was stunned into silence. Draco's eyes were hard on her, and she could see the suspicion in them. Blaise was just staring at her, his expression blank. And she, did not have a single thing to say.

"Your daughter," Draco repeated softly, his eyes not leaving her face.

"Stepdaughter," the man clarified as if that explained everything. As if distancing himself from her and disowning his blood claim on her would make the betrayal any less.

Draco finally looked away from her and turned to Blaise. "Throw them in the dungeon. Find out what you can _however you can._"

Blaise nodded and with a last look at her, cast a spell on the prisoners to take away their senses again before levitating them out. She was left alone with Draco Malfoy, and she braced herself for his reaction. Would he kill her now? Now that he knew of her ties to the rebels?

He stared at her for a long time, his expression portraying so many different emotions at once. She could see the anger and suspicion there, and a darker emotion, one she could not place. She thought she saw betrayal too, but she wasn't sure. It made her extremely scared. What was he going to do?

"Who are you?" the words were spoken so softly that she almost missed them. She surprisingly heard the strain in his voice.

She thought a long time before answering. Was this the moment her true identity would be revealed? She thought very quickly, trying to think what could dispel suspicion and still keep her cover. "Jean Wyler," she said slowly. The name disgusted her now. She was not Jean Wyler, she was Hermione Granger. And Hermione Granger had stolen someone's identity. Hermione Granger had stolen Jean Wyler.

"You really think so little of my intelligence?" he growled. "_Jean, that's what you're calling yourself now._ Isn't that what your _father _said? So I ask one last time, what are you?"

She winced. She cursed the fact that the man hadn't called her by the girl's name. What was she supposed to say now? "He's not my father," she said truthfully. "And it doesn't matter what it was before. My name is Jean Wyler now."

He stared at her coldly. "This must have been a nice little game for you, pretending to be someone else, tricking everyone. Is that how you get off? Hearing me call out a false name?" His tone made her cringe. She could hear the anger brimming behind his cold voice.

"It wasn't like that," she said quietly. "Look, I _was_ someone else. But I gave that up. He's right you know, my stepfather. I _am_ a coward. I knew they'd kill me if they saw me." This was true at least. If the Death Eaters had found her before she left the battle, they would have surely killed her – painfully. Harry potter's genius mudblood friend who bested many of their sons and daughters in Hogwarts? She had almost as big a target on her head as Harry's. "So I ran, and I ran far. I changed my name, and I became someone else. I threw all of that away, that life, that name, that _identity. _I ran and hid, and they all died, and thought I had died too. I was a coward?"

"For wanting to live?" he raised an eyebrow. His tone softened, though only slightly. "In this world? With the Dark Lord and his followers ruling it? With being a second class citizen to the likes of me? With having to life with the knowledge that everyone you loved was dead? You think you're a coward for having the courage to live in a world like this and somehow survive?"

"It's not courage," she said quietly. It really wasn't. She wasn't trying to be brave, or strong. She was trying to survive. She was sacrificing everything for Harry, including her peace of mind. No, it wasn't courage, was it? When she had done it only because she had no other choice? "It was necessary," she said, answering both his question and her own.

He stared at her. "You make it sound as if you had no choice."

"I didn't."

"We all have a choice in our lives," he said quietly. "Remember that, always. We control our own fates. Destiny is bullshit. We make our choices and we live with the consequences."

She just looked at him. His tone had softened considerably now, though she could see hear the anger in his voice. At lease the suspicion had slightly lessened. Was he going to let her go? Surely not, now when he found when not only had she lied about who she was, but also she was the stepdaughter of a rebel. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked when finally she could no longer take the suspense. She readied herself for defense. If he attacked, she would defend herself. She had to. If she died now, that would be it. Harry would never come back, and what was happening to those prisoners in the dungeons would happen to everyone who defied Voldemort and his cronies. She couldn't just let it go because they had crossed that unspoken line, or because he had shown her another side. If it came down to it, she would have to do what she had to in order to save Harry, even if it was difficult.

"I'm not sure yet," he said slowly, his tone once again radiating with anger. Just like that, the soft side he had shown was gone. He was once again Draco Malfoy, the death eater. "But I know what you're going to do."

"Oh?" she prodded.

"You're going to interrogate your father," he said, his eyes hard on her face. He was watching for her reaction, and she knew her life could depend on what she did and said now. "And you're going to find out where the rebel's headquarters is for me."

"You really think he'll tell me?" she refrained from rolling her eyes. They had both heard the man. He hated her. There was no way in hell he was going to tell her anything. Why would she even try? "He called me a whore who was sleeping with the enemy to save my own skin. You think he'd ever tell me anything, short of how he wishes he could kill me?"

Draco shrugged, though his expression remained the same. "I don't know. But you're going to try, because if you don't," he said menacingly. "Our deal ends, and you die."

_Oh._

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**Muahaha :D And so the plot thickens! How do you think her 'stepfather' is going to react to her this time? Think Draco is being as lenient as he sounds or does he have something else planned? Just questions to think about until the next chapter :D_  
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**I put this chapter up quickly because you guys were so incredible with the last one! Thank you guys so much for reviewing and telling me what you thought and I'm glad you enjoyed it! Hope you liked this chapter too! Let me know your thoughts :)**


	24. What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

**Part I: What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger**

Hermione Granger was not a stranger to torture. She had been tortured at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange herself. She had had the words _Mudblood _carved into her arm. She had had the Cruciatus Curse bring her to the brink of death and back again only to put her through the same torture again. She would never forget the pain she had gone through, not just on her body but on her mind. She had been mentally exhausted, put through hell. But despite what Bellatrix had tried to do to her, it had only made her stronger. These people, these Death Eaters knew only death and fear. They brought death to those they thought inferior to them. People thought they knew no fear. People thought they were invincible. But they always seemed to forget the torture Voldemort put his own followers through. They forgot the punishments they endured for failures. Forgetting that, of course, it would make them forget why they had such a drive to complete their mission. It wasn't just their love of killing that drove them. It was their fear of torture. It was their will to be stronger so they would never have to go through that pain again.

Fear drove the Death Eaters to push harder, to be stronger. For her, for the others, for those holding onto their principles, for those standing up for their beliefs, there was a different drive to be stronger. It was for the fact that torture drove them to ensure they never faced it again. It drove them to hold on stronger to the very ideals that got them tortured. It reminded them of how strong they were, of how right they were, of what they were willing to go through to protect their beliefs. It was that very thing that pushed Hermione Granger to be stronger after Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her. She was stronger than Bellatrix. She could withstand the pain, she could push past it.

And that was the reason that she knew without a doubt that the man who said he was her stepfather would not cave to the Death Eaters' torture. That was the reason she knew that, as his daughter, she would get no information out of it. That was the reason she knew this was it. Draco was going to kill her when she came out of that meeting with no information. She had failed. She had failed Harry, and Ron, and everyone. All of her sins, all of her crimes, Harry would never be able to make it right. Everything she had done, every sick, despicable thing she had tried not to think about, it would be her damnation. Still, she wanted to talk to the man. She had not known the rebels were so strong. And if he knew something, anything, she had to find out before she died.

Draco was silent as he led her to the dungeons. She knew where they were of course. She had watched Harry and Ron being dragged down there when they had been captured. Blaise was waiting outside the cells. He nodded to Draco, and gave her a small smirk. But she saw a bit of regret in his eyes. She wondered if he felt sorry that she would be dead soon. No, that was ridiculous. "He's not giving anything up yet," Blaise said quietly.

"Leave us," Draco ordered quietly. Blaise raised an eyebrow at him, but made no inquiry. With a nod, and a last look at her, he left the dungeons. Only when he was gone did Draco turn to her. "I'm sure he'll talk to you more if I'm not here. I will be upstairs with Blaise. I will collect you in one hour. Get him to talk by then. Remember, your life depends on it." He opened the door and motioned for her to enter. She turned back to him, and saw a dark look on his face. "Try not to let him kill you before then. I would be extremely disappointed." He turned and walked away.

She waited until she heard the dungeon doors closing behind him that she finally turned around and faced the man. She cringed when she saw him. He was chained up to the wall, like an animal. He had a look of utter disgust on his face. "What the fuck are _you_ doing here?" he spat at her.

She winced and cast a muffliato on the cell door. "I'm sorry, sir, they sent me here to talk to you."

"Sir?" he laughed coldly. "Guess I'm no longer dear old dad, huh? Well I'm not gonna talk to them, and I'm sure as fuck not going to talk to you, you whore. Get out of here."

"Mister, um, look, I'm not who you think I am," she said, casting a quick glance at the door.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Marie?" he spat.

_Marie. _So that was her name? That was the girl who's identity she had stolen. She wished she had never learned it. "Was that your stepdaughter's name?" she asked quietly.

He looked at her for a long time, his expression unreadable. He was staring into her eyes. Her eyes, she realized, not his daughters, but _hers_. "Who are you?"

"My name is Hermione Granger," she said quietly.

"Bullshit," he snapped. "Hermione Granger is dead. She died at the battle. We all saw her body, right after You Know Who brought Potter's body back. What the fuck is this?"

"No, I promise you, Mr….?" she prodded for his name. She felt quite off telling him who she was but not knowing who he was. She was trusting him with her life, with Harry's life. But in these last moments, the moments she had left, she owed it to him to tell him his daughter had died honorably, and not as a traitor. Besides, what did it matter, when she would be dead soon anyway?

"Shardae," he said slowly. "Alfric Shardae."

"Well, Mr. Shardae, I promise you, I _am _Hermione Granger."

"I _saw _your dead body," he said again, shaking his head. He seemed to have a hard time believing it. But then, he _was_ looking at the face of his daughter.

"When Harry walked down to meet Lord Voldemort," she said quietly. "We made a promise to each other. I had to survive, so I could bring him back."

"Bring back the dead?" he shook his head. "Impossible."

"Yes, without Dark magic, it is," she said quietly, tears brimming in her eyes. They had performed the darkest of magics, and one that probably would have killed her anyway. But then, at least Harry would be back. "But we cast a spell, and – look, we don't have time for this. Just know that I am indeed Hermione Granger, and that my plan was to bring Harry back. That's why I left, that's why I let everyone believe I was dead."

He sat quietly for a moment, his eyes never leaving her face. And she saw it the moment realization hit him. His eyes grew cold. "Where did you get the body to transfigure into yours?"

She was crying now. "I- I'm so sorry, Mr. Shardae. I-I didn't have a ch-choice."

"Marie is dead then?" he asked quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. She nodded silently. "And you stole her body. Why?"

"I needed everyone to think I was dead. I needed a cover. I didn't recognize her, so I figured no one else would either."

"So because she wasn't your little friend at your little school, she was worthless to you?" he spat. She could hear the resentment in his voice, and she didn't blame it for it. He had every right to be angry for what she had done. "Just another nameless person to die for you, to die for Harry fucking Potter. And where is he now? He's 6 feet under just like my daughter."

She cringed at his words. "Please, Mr. Shardae, you have to understand," she said quietly. She felt so terrible. But why didn't he understand? Harry was what was important. How many people had died? How many people had sacrificed themselves for the cause, so that Harry could kill Voldemort? He was the only one that could, the only one who could save them. Didn't he understand that? "I'm going to bring Harry back."

"And what about my daughter?"

She winced. "I'm sorry. But you should know, she died a noble death. She died, like so many others, fighting for a better world. I'm sorry this was the first face I saw that I didn't recognize when I was leaving. But I had no choice. You have to believe that I have lived with the guilt of it every day since."

"You've lived with the guilt?" he asked, softly. The anger was gone now, replaced only by sadness. "What about our grief? What about the despair we lived with not knowing if she was dead or alive, but praying, fucking _praying _that our daughter was dead. Better to be dead than the fate that would have awaited her."

"I'm sorry," she said again, hanging her head down. "You can hate me for it all you want, Mr. Shardae. I honestly hate myself for it too. But we don't have much time. They'll be back. Look, if you want all of this to be over, you need to help me now. I need you to tell me about the rebels."

He laughed. "You're here with the enemy. Fucking him nice and thorough, are you? Why the fuck would I tell you anything? You may say you're going to bring back Harry, and yet here you are, keeping a Death Eater's bed warm. Face it, you've turned your back on him."

And just like that, Hermione Granger came out. He could call her a slag, he could hate her for stealing his daughter's identity, he could beat her for all she cared, but she was not going to let him accuse her of betraying Harry. She had given up _everything _for her best friend, she had damned herself for him, she had sold her soul. And she would willingly die for him. How dare he accuse her of something like that? She may have the persona of Jean Wyler now, but underneath it all, she was still Hermione Granger. And it was in this moment, that she finally saw it. It was in this moment that she remembered exactly who she was. She was Hermione Granger. She had defeated trolls, and saved Sirius, and fought at the Department of Mysteries. She had survived Dolohov's curse, and gone off to hunt the Horcruxes with Harry and Ron, and had been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. She had fought in the battle of Hogwarts. She had watched Ron fall, and bid Harry farewell as he walked off to meet Voldemort. She had performed the Darkest of magics so that she could bring him back. She had survived for a year, a year under the reign of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, _as a Mudblood_. She was Hermione Granger, and finally, she was back.

She stood tall and faced the man. "Mr. Shardae, I'm sorry for what I did to your daughter, I truly am. But do not for a moment forget who I am. I am Hermione Granger. I am Harry Potter's best friend. And I am the witch who is going to bring him back. I would _never _betray him. I would sooner die. You think this has been a bloody picnic for me? Well, no, it hasn't. But I've done what I had to do, to survive. Because while you rebels may be doing a good job against their forces, we all know there is only one person who can end this. And right now, you're talking to the one person who can bring him back. So if I were you, I'd tell me _everything _I know about the rebels so that when I _do _bring Harry back, we can end this, once and for all."

He stared at her for a long time, and she stared right back. She refused to drop her gaze first. Finally he looked away. "You don't have her eyes, you know," he said quietly. "I should have seen it right away. You don't have her eyes. I remember the first time I met her, when she was 2. I think part of the reason I married her mother was because I fell in love with that little girl. I didn't care that she wasn't mine by blood. She was my daughter from that moment on, and I have loved her every second since. I should have known…. the eyes…"

She sighed, and leaned down next to him. "Mr. Shardae, please. Please tell me anything you can."

He finally looked up at her. "We haven't been able to do much," he said quietly. "Those of us that remain, we have refugee camps all over the countryside. There's spells over them. You can't find them if you're one of his. But we move around a lot. Most of us left the country though. Nothing left here, I suppose. Some of us fight, we fight for Harry Potter. He's the only one that can end this. And though he's gone, he is still our savior."

It touched her how much Harry meant to them, even now, even in death. She had tears in her eyes. "Mr. Shardae, I need to tell them something, or they'll kill me. Can I – can I relay some of this to them? I promise I won't give them enough information for it to help them."

"They say you're the brightest witch of the age," he pondered her question.

But before either of them could say anything else, the cell door opened and Draco and Blaise walked in. She stood quickly, and Blaise grabbed her arm.

"Time's up," Draco said coldly. "Blaise, take her upstairs. We're going to have a small talk with your stepdaughter," he said to the man.

"We promise to be gentle." Blaise smirked as he led her out.

Hermione looked back at the man, and saw him give her a small nod. She sighed in relief and let Blaise drag her out of the dungeons to meet her fate, a small smile on her face. She prepared herself for whatever may come. Because the man had rejuvenated her spirits. They fought for Harry still, they fought in his name. That meant so much to her, she couldn't even explain it. Even in death, her best friend was as bright a beacon of hope as Fawkes had been. She would not let them kill her. She would survive this, she had to, for Harry. She looked back and saw Draco's gaze on her as he followed them our of the dungeons. He looked tired, and - sad? She wasn't sure if that was the emotion that was there, but she found it odd. Was he really sad that he might have to kill her? Even if she didn't want to admit it, she didn't want to kill him. She wasn't even sure if she could. Suddenly, everything seemed just a bit harder.

* * *

**New update! Told you I'd be better with the updating now :D SOOOO what did you guys think? How do you think Hermione handled talking to her 'stepfather'? And now you know the name of the girl who's identity she stole *le gasp*! Please review and let me know what you thought of the chapter :D **

**Things to consider (I think I'm liking this. It makes it interesting, don't you think?): Is she really walking into a battle for her life? Is she going to talk to him again? Is she going to go get Harry soon? WHAT THE HELL DOES BLAISE EVEN KNOW? (wink wink) **

**ALSO... just a quick question... how would you guys feel about a bit of an insight into Draco's perspective? I know I did that before, a long while back in one of the earlier chapters, but I think it could be interesting to see how he's feeling about all of this right now. What say you? **


	25. What Draco Did

**Part II: What Draco Did**

Draco Malfoy was not accustomed to feelings. After his mother died, he had turned them off. He thought feelings made you weak, made you vulnerable, and made you dead. As much as Draco hated the life he lived, he still believed in self-preservation. He had no desire to die. He might not like what he had become, but he _did_ enjoy many of the perks that came along with it.

For some time now, one of the better perks of this whole ordeal was having Jean in the palm of his hand. She was so soft, so warm. She had something about her, something that made him want more. She still had that thing in her eyes, whatever the hell it was. She reminded him of someone, someone he couldn't quite place. She intrigued him, she gave him pleasure. She was his. When he saw her with Blaise, even if he knew it was only pretend, only to fool Astoria into a false sense of security, he hated it. He wanted to curse his best mate's hand off every time he so much as touched her. For a long time, he didn't know what it was that he felt within him and why it caused such a strong impulse to do something rash. When he saw them at his party last night, he had finally figured out what he was feeling. He was jealous. He was so fucking jealous. When he saw them together, he saw red. There was nothing he could do about it.

Jean Wyler made him feel again, and for some reason, he had let her. They had crossed a line, he knew. They had passed the point of no return. It wasn't that he loved her, or anything preposterous like that. It was just – feelings. He wasn't sure how to define them, but he knew it was definitely not good. She made him vulnerable, weak. And she could lead him to death. Still, he let it go on. He let her seep into every pore of his body until his need for her was so great, until he needed her so desperately. Draco Malfoy had always prided himself on his control. But when she walked in, looking – bloody _beautiful_, with Blaise fucking Zabini, on _his_ arm, as _his _date, he lost every ounce of control. He needed to claim her.

And now, just when he had accepted that what he felt for her was _feelings_, however undefined, he learned she was the daughter of a rebel. He learned she was not even Jean Wyler. What the fuck was her name anyway? Was _this_, whatever they had, was it a trap? Was she just trying to get information from him? Seeing her stepfather's reaction when he saw her, he wanted to believe it was not. Jean, as she called herself, had run in fright. She had not wanted to die. And he could not blame her for it. He remembered how broken she was after Voldemort had made her kill that man. He remembered how he felt back in sixth year, when everything was just a little bit simpler, when he had to kill Dumbledore. He had cowered out, and Snape had finished the job. Now, now would be a different story. Draco Malfoy had grown up a lot in the past year. He was no longer that weak, helpless, _frightened_ boy who had been expected to fail and die that couldn't kill Albus Dumbledore. Now, he was the last Malfoy. He was the last of the ancient and most noble house of Black.

Draco sighed as Blaise offered him a glass of firewhiskey. They were back in the ballroom again, and Draco had collapsed into a chair. What the hell was he going to do? Was he supposed to kill her? Was he supposed to just let this go? He may no longer be a coward, but he wasn't sure he could do that, not now. He downed his drink in one gulp, and Blaise refilled his glass.

"Who would have thought, huh?" Blaise said nonchalantly, taking a seat next to him, nursing his own glass of the dark, bitter liquid.

"You think she'll find anything out?" he asked carefully.

Blaise shrugged. "She might. Though it's not bloody likely. You say how he treated her."

"I know."

"What are you going to do?" Blaise asked, feigning disinterest. But Draco saw right through it. He knew his best mate too well. They had been best mates, brothers almost, since before they even knew what those words meant, before they knew the bond that went with them.

"I don't know," Draco said slowly. There was no point in trying to hide how lost he was, not from Blaise. As he knew him, so Blaise knew Draco. "What do you think I should do?"

Blaise seemed to think about it for a long time. Then, softly, he answered, "I don't think she's here just to find out information. I mean, we haven't exactly been forthcoming with the details, have we? I don't think she's thick enough to think that'll work. And she ran, didn't she? She went into hiding. Doesn't exactly seem like the rebellion type, if you ask me."

"You think I should let her live?" Draco raised an eyebrow. Blaise liked this life no more than he did, however he tried to pretend otherwise. But he would never let someone live if it meant he could get his throat slit afterwards.

Blaise shrugged. "I don't know mate, I'm just giving you my opinion of her. I'm just glad I'm not Draco fucking Malfoy right now."

He rolled his eyes, finishing off his drink. "Thanks, mate."

"Any time," Blaise smirked, and once again refilled their glasses, knowing somehow that all Draco wanted right now was alcohol, alcohol, and more alcohol.

Draco sighed, and ran a hand through his blond hair. "What the fuck possessed you to pretend she was your girlfriend? You're not exactly the girlfriend type, you know."

Blaise chuckled, though Draco thought it soft a bit sad. "I was just trying to help you out, Drake. I heard on the grapevine that Astoria was getting suspicious. Apparently, Pansy told her you were with Jean, and were planning to leave Astoria for her, which is ridiculous." He laughed again, though, this time, Draco did not. While he knew he could not leave Astoria, especially not for Jean, he did not want to marry Astoria. Sure, he didn't love her, but he still cared about her. The Greengrass family had not openly declared themselves as Voldemort's followers, but everyone knew they were sympathizers. This was an ideal marriage proposition for everyone involved, but Draco had his reservations. Of course, he could not refuse, since that would displease the Dark Lord. Still, he did not want Astoria to go through what he had seen his mother go through. He knew the Dark Lord expected children out of this marriage, nice, pureblooded children from rich, respectable families. But that would never happen, not if Draco could help it. He had long ago decided that both the Malfoy and the Black lines would end with him.

He looked at his best friend, suddenly remembering him escorting Jean into his house. He had no idea what brought it to mind right now, but he saw red again. He brought the subject back to his initial question. "You are aware that I want to murder you, right?"

Blaise smirked. "Of course. But you have to admit, this way is a lot better than Astoria asking you unwanted questions."

He looked at his best mate skeptically. There was something he wasn't telling him. "There's another reason, isn't there? Why you pretend she's your girlfriend? It's not just because you think you're an awesome friend."

"First of all," Blaise rolled his eyes halfheartedly. "I don't think, I _know_ I'm an awesome friend. Secondly, what other reason could I have for pretending she's my girlfriend? You said it yourself. I'm not the girlfriend type. Not like I can act like my old bloke self if everyone knows I have a girlfriend now, can I?"

"I'm sure you'd be discreet," Draco rolled his eyes. "You're lying to me, Blaise. Tell me."

Blaise sighed. "Look, Draco, I just wanted to help you, alright? Maybe I do have other reasons, but _that _is my main purpose. Any other reason I may or may not have does not concern you. So leave it alone."

Draco looked at Blaise for a long time. He debated pushing the matter, especially since he knew Blaise would crack eventually. But he decided against it. Blaise deserved to have a few secrets. He sure as hell had enough of his own. He simply nodded, and Blaise smiled at him. "Thanks."

They fell into silence again as Draco tried to figure out what to do. If he had to kill her, he wasn't sure he could. She had betrayed him. She had lied to him. Who the fuck was she? He needed to know. Maybe that was why he couldn't place her. Maybe he had seen her before, under a different name. Was that it? No, something didn't feel right about that. He needed to know! _Who the fuck was she? And what the hell was he supposed to do? _Feelings aside, he knew he would have to do what he had to do. If that meant killing her, he would have no choice. But he wasn't even sure he would be able to control himself. He, who had always prided himself on his control, seemed to lose it all when it came to her. It disturbed him, made him weak. He had never felt so vulnerable in his life, and he did not care for it. Merlin's soggy balls! Why was this witch so fucking frustrating? Why couldn't she have just been honest with him? Why couldn't she have just told him who she was? It would have made it all easier. He could have dealt with this before she had seeped into his skin, before he had lost any semblance of control. But now, now today was just that much more fucking complicated than yesterday.

Finally, he looked at his watch and sighed, standing up and finishing the last of his drink before setting the glass down. "It's been an hour," he said to Blaise's inquiring gaze. Blaise nodded, and stood as well. And together, they went to go get her. It was time for action, and for the first time since Draco stood across from Albus Dumbledore in the Astronomy Tower in his sixth year just moments before the old man's death, Draco Malfoy had no bloody idea what the fuck he was going to do.

* * *

**Dun dun dun! What is he going to do?! I decided to give you a bit of insight into what Draco's feeling at this point. Hope that clarified things for you (NOT ;) ) But what did you guys think? I decided to make it at the same time as during the last chapter. I really want to do the next events in Hermione's perspective, so this seemed the best way. Also, this was when Draco was having all these thoughts, so I figured it would be more revealing on Draco's part to have it now. I probably won't do this again for a while (since I feel like Draco's perspective gives away a bit too much.) What did you guys think of Blaise? **

**Things to think about: As always, what is going on with Blaise? What is Draco going to do? Is she going to tell him who she 'is' now that she knows? What is the fact that she's remembered that she's Hermione Granger and not Jean Wyler going to do for her now? **

**ALSO, JUST TO CLARIFY ON THE LAST CHAPTER, she may have told Tom Shardae that she is Hermione Granger, BUT she still looks like Jean. I got a few messages about that, so just wanted to clarify in case you didn't get that. :D Also, to answer a few people's questions, no, Blaise and Draco did not hear their conversation (not only were they a bit too preoccupied drinking Draco's dilemma away, but if you remember from the last chapter, Hermione casted the muffliato charm on the door so they wouldn't be able to hear even if they were right outside the door!).**

**Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter, and gotten a better feel of Draco in the story! ****And yes, I JUST posted the last chapter (not all of my updates will be this quick unfortunately) but I just had Draco's perspective in my mind already so I couldn't wait to write it. Fuck speech class lol my prof talks about nothing but herself throughout the entire lecture anyway haha but anyways! **Please review and let me know what you thought :D 

**P.S. IF YOU HAVE TIME, you guys should check out my newest Dramione story: The Chains That Bind. I'm really excited for that one :)**


	26. Undecided Fates

For almost a year, Hermione Granger had lost herself in her disguise. She had forgotten somehow that she was indeed Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, and not Jean Wyler, coward and whore of Draco Malfoy. It had been easier to fall into her own deception, to forget all the wrongs Hermione had done. Jean Wyler never stole anyone's identity. Jean Wyler never killed countless faceless people. Jean Wyler was not the best friend of Harry Potter, and had not gone through all the trials that role entailed. Jean Wyler had not been tortured to the brink of insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange. Jean Wyler had not lost everyone she cared about. No, that was Hermione Granger. It had been easy, oh so easy, to pretend it had been someone else who had gone through all of that.

But it seemed now that that charade had come to an end. Yes, she still bore the features of Jean Wyler, but for the first time in so long, Hermione was seeing clearly. She was herself again. And the weight of her evils was bearing down on her. She had to remind herself that it was all for Harry, all for the greater good. So what if she damned herself in the process? She was helping save the world, wasn't she? So what if she had to commit a few atrocities to reach the most desirable end. One day, everything she did, everything she had had to do, it would all be forgiven. Because she was going to be bring Harry back, and if she survived the process, together they would save the world from the darkness that had taken hold. Yes, one day, she would be forgiven, even if she never forgave herself, even if she never had her own peace of mind. At least, the world could be at peace. That was the sacrifice Hermione Granger was making, and she would make it again and again. She would not do anything differently, no matter how hard it was on her soul.

Blaise dragged her back into the ballroom, and she remembered the last time she had been held captive in this room, when she had been tortured. She met his gaze, and did not flinch. She had survived Bellatrix Lestrange in this very room, and she would survive Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy. There was nothing they could do that would compare to what Bellatrix had put her through. For a moment, she saw a sudden sadness in Blaise's eyes. It unnerved her. Why he did always seem to know more about her than she knew herself? He always seemed to see right through to her soul. And now that she was Hermione Granger again, she could see it very clearly. Jean Wyler had overlooked his attentions, but Hermione Granger was too smart for that.

He looked away from her and she turned to face Draco. His eyes did not leave her face, his expression completely blank of all emotions. She realized slowly that she was looking at the Death Eater, and not the man. Save for when he had caught her with the knife to his throat, he had always shown her the man. And yet, he was wearing the Death Eater mask without even having the real mask on. She was suddenly frightened. Would he try to kill her? Would she have to fight him? She wasn't sure if she could. She had had the chance before, to kill him. And she couldn't do it. That was even before she had realized how far they had come. That was when she thought his every movement would mean her death. He had told her that morning that she was not a coldblooded killer. She would not kill a defenseless man, no matter who he was or what he had done. Call it the Gryffindor in her, but she could not do something so – _vile. _But now, she reminded herself, it would not be coldblood. If he attacked her, it would just be self-defense, wouldn't it? Her eyes darted from him to Blaise and back again. Could she take both of them? They were skilled fighters, she knew, but was she better? Her dueling had never been too great. But she wanted to believe she was smart enough to hold her on against them long enough to get away. She would have to be quick about it. As Draco continued to watch her, she quickly thought of ways to attack them swiftly. She knew speed would be her greatest ally in this, or her greatest detriment.

"Well?" he spoke finally. There was a cold edge to his voice. "What has your _father _told you?"

She sighed, and tried to figure out how much she could tell him. "There are refugee camps," she said slowly. "All over the country, and the continent really. They move often. He didn't give me exact locations. He just told me they're there."

Draco seemed to process this. "We had heard about camps of rebels, but we weren't sure," he admitted. "What else?"

"Well, you won't be able to find them," she said, trying to keep the pride out of her voice. "Only people who don't support Him can seek it. It's some charm, I think. But it's effective. They've ensured you will never find them."

"Charms can be broken," Blaise said softly.

She glanced at him quickly before looking back at Draco. He seemed to be contemplating it. "Did he tell you how someone who doesn't support him can find it?"

"No," she said thankfully. Even if they tried to break into her mind, they wouldn't see it. She was rather good at blocking the invasion, but it was reassuring that they wouldn't find it even if they broke through her defenses. Of course, she had a few ideas about how to get in, but she refused to think about them right now, not when they might get the information.

He pulled his wand out and pointed it at her. She stiffened and prepared herself to grab her own wand. "What else?" he demanded.

"They still fight for him," she said quietly, unable this time to keep the pride out of her voice. It had filled her heart so to hear it. "They still fight in the name of Harry Potter."

"Potter is dead," Draco said slowly.

_Not for long_. "It doesn't matter," she said. "They fight for him. He was – is their savior. He is their beacon of hope."

"Hope that hung in ruins at the gate of Hogwarts," Draco said bitterly. She cringed as the image entered her mind. She remembered his disfigured body hanging naked and deformed at the gate of the castle he had loved so much.

"It doesn't matter," she repeated. Harry was still their beacon of light. He was still their savior. And he would still come back and save them.

Draco watched her for a moment, his wand still pointed at her. "Anything else?" She shook her head. "Blaise, leave." She did not turn to see Blaise's reaction. Her eyes were glued on Draco. He was the immediate threat. She needed to take him down first, if this came to a fight. But then, why was he sending Blaise away? Did he think he could take her by himself? Well, he was in for a rude awakening. He might have bested Jean Wyler, but there was no way in hell that Draco Malfoy could _ever _best Hermione Granger. She was the brightest witch of her age, and she had to win, at all costs. For Harry.

She heard the faint pop as Blaise Disapparated. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked quietly.

He just stared at her for a moment. "You seem to ask me that question a lot," a small smirk was on his face.

"You seem to give me reason to a lot," she retorted.

"I'm going to give you once chance," he said slowly. "Tell me who you are."

She was grateful the man had told her this time. She debated for a second if she should tell him the truth, that is was Hermione Granger, and she had bested all of them. But then, he was giving her a chance, wasn't he? Did that mean her cover wasn't blown yet? She decided to try to peace this over. If only she could stay in disguise a little bit longer, maybe she could find the opening she needed to get into the Ministry of Magic and bring Harry back. "My name is – was Marie Shardae," she said slowly. She wasn't sure if the girl had taken her stepfather's last name, but she didn't think it would really matter. It wasn't as if the girl had gone to Hogwarts with them. How would he ever verify it? "That man downstairs is my stepfather. I fought for the light, and when I saw we were losing, I got scared and ran. I didn't want to die," she let the smallest amount of vulnerability leak into her voice. Let him think she was weak, let him believe he could best her if it came down to it. She would appreciate the element of surprise.

"Why did you say your name was Jean Wyler?" he demanded.

"It was the name of my friend," she lied quickly. When had she become such a good liar? She didn't know, but she was grateful for it. There was no doubt that her voice rang sincere. Of course, her mom wasn't exactly her _friend_, but it was close enough. And long ago, before she married her dad, she _was_ a Wyler.

Draco stood quietly for a few moments. "I should kill you now," he said softly.

But she heard the indecision in his voice. He didn't want to kill her, she realized! She wondered if he felt the same hesitation she did with facing each other. She decided to play it up. Maybe she could convince him to spare her. "Please, don't kill me. I didn't even know he was alive. I didn't know anything about the rebels. I'm not one of them." That much was true.

He seemed to hesitate even more now. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I could have killed you," she reminded him cautiously. She didn't want to push him too far. "That morning when I held a knife to your neck. I could have killed you then, but I didn't. If I was really one of them, why wouldn't I have taken that opportunity?"

He seemed to ponder that over, though his eyes never left hers. He watched her, clearly looking for some indication she was lying. But Hermione was smarter than Jean Wyler. She had told just enough of the truth, had spun it to actually be true that he would not see through her lies. She was the master of words, and she was spinning them to save her.

Finally, he put the wand down though he continued to watch her. "If I find out you're lying," he said quietly. "I _will _kill you, slowly, and I will make sure you feel every moment of it."

She nodded and let out a breath in relief. She was safe. She could still pretend, could still gather information, could still save Harry. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"You still need to be punished though," he took a step closer to her, his expression suddenly changed. He looked resentful, and she knew her punishment would not be easy. Would he beat her? Would he hurt her? Lock her up? He grabbed her hand and yanked her after him. "Come, we're going to go visit dear old dad."

What the hell did that mean?

* * *

**MUAHAHA another cliffhanger :D What did you guys think? How do you feel about how it was resolved? Please review and let me know your thoughts! It helps me write the next chapter!**

**Things to think about: (I'm not even going to ask about Blaise again because the questions are still there. Don't worry… they'll be answered! Eventually ;) ) What do you think her punishment is going to be? Did Draco really let it go? Would Hermione really have been able to attack him even if he attacked first? **_**Would he have been able to? **_**Is she going to go look for the refugee camps? How is Harry going to feel about all of this when he comes back? She thinks he'll be able to pardon everything she's done, but will be he able to really? Would he even **_**want **_**to? **

**Not sure when the next chapter will be up. I had this and the last chapter written already but I'll get the next one out as soon as I can :) Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone! It really means so much! And it makes me update a lot faster (wink wink)**


	27. The Monster I See Now

_"Come, we're going to go visit dear old dad."_

_What the hell did that mean?_

Draco dragged her back down to the dungeons, back to the man who had called himself her stepfather, back to Alfin Shardae, back to the man whose daughter's identity she had stolen. She had told him who she was really, and now Draco was leading her right back there. Did that mean he didn't believe her? Did that mean he was going to try to get more information from him? She didn't dare ask. He had pardoned her, though he had vowed she would be punished. But that didn't mean she wanted to push him now, not even if she was Hermione Granger again. Because she wasn't the old Hermione. She was someone new. The old Hermione would have asked a million questions by now, but the new Hermione? She knew silence could be her savior now.

He dragged her into the cell with the man and pushed her away from him. His eyes were focused on Alfin, though she could tell he was just as tentative to her. She saw a cold determination in his eyes and gasped. Was he going to kill him? Right now, here in front of her? Draco believed she was his daughter. Would he kill him and make her watch?

"We'll find those camps," he said coldly to the man.

"You'll never find them," Alfin Shardae spat. "You don't have the power."

Draco smirked slightly. "Don't pretend to know how much power I have. But even if I didn't, you think the Dark Lord is powerless? And he'll kill every man, woman, and child."

Mr. Shardae's eyes drifted to her for a moment, and then back again to Draco. She could see the panic there, and she knew that exact expression too well. Who did he have left at the camp? Who would be so important that even now, this man that had shown no fear even in the face of torture and death would suddenly look so afraid? "He won't find them," he shook his head, mumbling to himself. "He won't. He won't find them."

"Yes, he will," Draco said simply. "But you're going to save us that trouble. You're going to tell us where they are."

"Like hell I will!"

Draco's face was once again expressionless. "Do you know why I have brought your daughter here now?"

The look of disgust grew on his face again, though Hermione noticed it was not as harsh as before. "She's no blood of mine," the man spat.

"And yet, her very presence here brings about such a reaction from you. I wonder," he pulled her to him, positioning her right in front of him. He hands grabbed her arms, and held her there. "What you would say to this?"

She gasped as he pulled her back firmly against him. No. He wouldn't. Not here. Not now. Not in front of the man he thought was her father. She looked down, unable to look the man in the face.

Draco's hands moved to her sides, moving down slowly. No, no, no! She could see what he was going to do and she hated him for it. Whatever imaginary line she had thought that had crossed – it was gone. His hands moved to her midriff, and edged down still. "Do you care so little for her now that you can watch me defile her?" He shoved his hands into her pants and stroked her through her knickers.

As disgusted as she was with this, as horrific as this was, her body responded. He knew just how to touch her. He knew just how to draw the right reactions from her. She bit her lip to stop from moaning when his finger touched her clit through her knickers. Slowly, softly, he rubbed it, teasing her, making her want it, making her want _more_. She hated that he knew exactly how to touch her, that he could draw this reaction from her. She hated _him _for it. His head moved forward until his lips were at her ear. "You'll stay still or I'll kill him," he whispered. "Don't worry," he added after a moment of hesitation. He licked her ear, which caused her to shiver.

Alfin Shardae looked to be in physical pin at watching this. She knew it was because even if he knew she wasn't his daughter really, she still looked like her, like Marie. She couldn't look at him, she couldn't face it. Not when her body was betraying her so much. She hated to admit it, even in the privacy of her own mind, but it was erotic, having someone watch them. Even if she looked like his daughter, he was not her father. Still, she hated herself for these feelings.

"Please stop," she whispered.

"Can't do that, love," he said softly. His fingers were still teasing her through her knickers. "Not until dear old daddy tells me exactly what I want to know."

"I won't," the man repeated, though she could see his resolve breaking. Would he tell Malfoy what he wanted to know? Would he betray the rebels for _her_? She wasn't his daughter, and he knew it. Was he really willing to sacrifice everything for her?

"We'll see about that," Draco said coldly. He brought his other hand around her and took her breast in his hand. He kept his hands over her shirt, but it was still enough. She tasted blood in her mouth from biting her lip so hard. But she couldn't cry out, not in front of this man, not like this.

"I can't tell you!" the man cried. "There's a spell that stops us! I swear! I can't share it."

His hands stopped, though they remained were they were. Unfortunately, that meant his finger was pressed against her clit. She couldn't take this. "What country are they in? Here in England or have they moved out?"

"Both," the man said after a moment of hesitation. She could see this was killing him, but she understood. Even if he knew she wasn't Marie, even if he knew she was still Hermione Granger, she still looked exactly like his daughter. He was watching his daughter be raped, and it was, because whatever their agreement was, she did _not _consent to this. He was watching his daughter _enjoy _it. He was watching it happen by the enemy. And he couldn't handle it. Suddenly, she knew why Draco had done this. He knew the man would cave. He knew no father, biological or not, could ever watch his daughter go through that. It didn't make her forgive him, but she understood.

"Where is their strongest force?"

The man closed his eyes. She could see how hard this was for him. He was betraying everyone. He could be the reason they were found and killed. He could be the reason Voldemort ruled forever.

"Tell me," Draco demanded, starting to knead her breast again. She closed her eyes, still feeling his finger. He had started moving it against her clit again slowly, torturing her.

"Please stop," the man pleaded. "Leave her alone!"

The hand on her breasts stilled though his fingers on her swollen nub continued slowly. Even through her knickers, he was making her quiver. "Tell me," he repeated.

"H-here," Mr. Shardae said finally, hanging his head in shame.

Draco nodded, and slowly removed his hands from her. "Thank you for your cooperation," he said as he stepped back. "I'll be seeing you again."

Grabbing her arm, he dragged her from the cell. But, it was not before she saw the man's eyes on her, sad and pitiful. Maybe it wasn't just because she looked like his daughter. Maybe it was just bad enough seeing such torture on anyone. "I'm sorry," she mouthed to the man, feeling so powerless. It disgusted her, this feeling of being so helpless. That was not who the new and reemerged Hermione Granger was. That was not who she needed to be. She saw the man nod once before the door was closed behind them.

He did not release her till they were back in the ballroom when he pushed her away from him. He turned his back on her and poured two glasses of firewhiskey. He silently handed her one. Hermione glared at him, so disgusted with what he had done. Maybe she did understand, but that did not make it okay. Silently, she finished her glass quickly. She needed the alcohol after what he had just put her through.

"I had to do it," he said quietly, his back to her again.

"Why?"

"I had no choice," he replied.

"We all have a choice in our lives. We control our own fates. Destiny is bullshit. We make our choices and we live with the consequences," she quoted him, her perfect memory still intact.

He winced as his own words were thrown back at him. "I _was_ controlling my fate," he said through gritted teeth. "And yours."

"What does that even mean?" she demanded. He couldn't be serious. Was he actually going to say he humiliated her in front of the man he believed to be her _father_ to _help _her?

"Word of who he was was going to get out," he said quietly, finishing his drink and pouring himself another one. "You think the Dark Lord would have let you live if he found out who that rebel was to you if I didn't get something out of him?"

"You _raped _me in front of my father," Hermione spat, remembering her cover. "You think that was the best way to get information out of him?"

"It was the only way."

"I _highly _doubt that."

"No parent would be able to watch their child go through something like that," Draco explained quietly.

"After the man disowned me and called me a whore?" Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You knew he would care?"

"Of course. He's your father."

"And if he didn't cave?" Hermione asked quietly, not wanting to think of how far Draco could have gone to get the information. Would he have made her suck him off? Would he have actually fucked her in front of the man? Would he have really stopped so low?

"I knew he would," Draco shook his head. "And what's important is that he did."

That was it. Hermione walked over to him and slapped him hard across the face. His cheek turned red with her handprint. "_That's_ what's important here? That you didn't have to _fuck me in front of my father? _That he was a decent enough human being that he couldn't watch his daughter, who had betrayed him so deeply, being raped in front of him? That he would have willingly given you anything you wanted to stop that unendurable torture?"

She was actually slightly surprised he didn't kill her for hitting him. But it empowered her. She remembered when she had slapped him all those years ago back in their third year, and remembered how good that had felt when he was making fun of Hagrid. Now this, _this _felt so much better.

"That's what you consider a good job? That's what you consider the main thing to remember from that?" she spat.

"No, what I consider most important is that we will _both _live to see another day," he said, his expression blank. She could see him fighting back the anger, and trying to keep that cool and distant composure he was so good at.

"You're a monster."

"I know." And suddenly, his cool façade fell apart. He looked 20 years older, and 80 times more tired.

She suddenly felt so exhausted. Jean Wyler was taking such a toll on her. This would never have happened to Hermione Granger, not in a million years. And if anyone had tried, she would have cursed them to oblivion. But she remembered that she needed to remain alive. She needed to make sure he kept her alive. Harry, that was what was important. That was why she had to bear this with her head held high. Oh how she needed him now. She had to go get him, and soon. She was just waiting, waiting for that one piece of information that would justify the risk, that would mean it was time to bring him back. Hearing the strength of the rebellion was the first bit of news she had heard that made her realize it was almost time. She had not known how strong the rebels were while she had kept herself hidden over the year. And now that she knew it, she knew without a doubt that the time was approaching. Just one more bit of information, just one to hear about the status of the Death Eaters and their troops now. Then, she could go get him. Then he could make everything okay.

She looked back at Draco, who was still staring at her. She hated that he looked so broken over this. It made it difficult to hate him for it. It had been just as hard on him as it had been on her. He wasn't the monster he had just been. He wasn't a saint, but he was no monster, not like that. But she was still too angry to care.

"I guess it doesn't matter what you do to me, though. After all, I am just your whore," she said quietly. He winced so slightly that she was not even sure it had happened. She put her glass down and backed away from him. "I need to get out of here. I-I can't take this."

"Jean," he stepped forward but stopped short as he saw her expression. His expression once again turned blank as he watched her leaving.

She turned and ran. She couldn't be here right now, not when she was starting to feel _sorry _for him. He had done this. He had made his choice, and now, she was making hers. She knew this position, as Draco Malfoy's whore was the best way to get the information she needed. She had learned more in the short time they had been together than she had in the entire year she had been on her own. She knew she would have to come back. But right now? Right now, she couldn't handle it. Right now she just needed to get away from him, and from this house. Right now, she didn't want to be Jean Wyler. She wanted to be Hermione Granger again with her bushy hair and know-it-all reputation. She wanted to be strong and brave, like she had been for Harry before. She _needed _to be Hermione Granger again.

Hermione had been mistaken in thinking they had crossed a line. She was his whore, and nothing more. This was just a means to an end. This meant nothing to him but sex and to her, survival. And so she ran. She ran as fast as she could from him, from Alfin Shardae, from this house, and from Jean Wyler.

* * *

**Bet you didn't see that coming :D New chapter! What did you guys think? Was Draco a bit too harsh with the punishment? I know, I know, he seemed like a complete arse during this chapter but he shall redeem himself don't worry :D Please review and let me know what you thought!**

**PS! Just to clarify because I saw a few reviews and got a few messages about this: Draco is now the Head of the Malfoy family. Lucius and Narcissa are dead. He is the last Malfoy and Black! Sorry, I mentioned that before in the beginning when it was the first time you saw Draco's thoughts. I guess I wasn't clear enough =| **


	28. Secrets, Mistakes, and Choices

Hermione Granger was many things. She was smart. She was brave. She was loyal. She was strong. Hermione Granger could tell you about anything you wanted to know. She could tell you about any goblin rebellion dating back to 1204. She could recite every law of magic. She could tell you the meaning of any alignment in the night sky. But at the moment, the only thing she could tell you with absolute certainty was that Madam Rosmerta did not have two heads. She had already checked. At the moment, the only thing Hermione granger was was very, very drunk. Or so she had been told.

"Another one please," she put her glass down and looked at Rosmerta.

"Don't you think you've had enough, dear," the woman said, clearly concerned. Her eyes darted through the bar, looking at the amount of men here that could do the poor witch harm. While the old barmaid had remained in the dark days after the war when the wizarding world fell to Voldemort, Hermione knew it was because this bar had been in her family for centuries and she'd be damned if she let some riffraff Death Eater take over.

But Hermione did not care to be quite honest. She was so past caring. It hurt too much. "Another," she slurred, pleadingly.

Rosmerta sighed and handed her another glass before moving away. Hermione was so far gone that she did not notice when someone sat next to her until they spoke. And just her luck it was Blaise fucking Zabini. Honestly, couldn't she get away even now?

"Someone's drunk," he taunted her, motioning to Rosmerta for one of his own.

"Go away, Zabini," she slurred. She wasn't sure where she was getting this courage from. Though she was pretty sure it was a liquid courage that came in a bright orange brown color.

"Really going to send me away when I came all this way just for you, love?" He asked nonchalantly, taking a sip from his own drink.

"For me?" She asked, turning to look at him suspiciously. "Are you following me?"

"Actually I can't say stalking young witches is a hobby of mine, even if they are as beautiful as you," he smirked. "But a few of my friends are in attendance at the moment, and seeing as the community believes you to be my girlfriend. I didn't think leaving you here to drink yourself to death alone was a good idea. Can't have people thinking I don't satisfy my woman, can I?"

"Oh right because you're Blaise Zabini, sexpert extraordinaire."

"Exactly," he winked. "Now if you want to find out for yourself just how true the rumors are, I'd be more than happy to oblige."

"Draco would kill you if he were to find out you're trying to get me in my pants," she said grudgingly.

"Draco would kill me for a lot of things, but making sure you didn't die wouldn't be one of them," he said softly.

"Is that what you're doing?" She rolled her eyes. She hated to think that Malfoy actually cared about her. It made hating him too hard. Oh yes she definitely needed a few more drinks. "Saving me?" The words came out with a dark edge as she eyed the dark Death Eater.

"Of course," he shrugged. He ordered them two more drinks. "You don't know how often I've come to your rescue actually."

"Oh really?" She laughed. He was actually trying this? If he were so keen on rescuing her, where was he when Draco almost killed her? Or when he raped her in front of her father? "Why don't you enlightenment me then?"

"Well for one," he said casually. He leaned in close, his lips by her ear. His next words were low, meant only for her. "I know who you are, Granger."

Hermione Granger was not too drunk to understand that.

* * *

She chugged the sobering potion down quickly. She needed to be sober for this conversation. After Blaise had dropped that bomb on her, she had grabbed him and Apparated to her building, rushing him to her flat. He had let her though she was sure he could have easily stopped her if he wanted. But he had allowed her to drag him away from prying eyes and ears, an amused smirk on his face.

She turned to him after she had downed the potion, the effects instantaneous. She had her wand extended out in front of her. "How?"

"You really think I'm a threat, Granger?" He asked, smirking as he looked at her wand. "You do realize that if I wanted to do away with you, I could have easily just exposed you. Made quick work of it really."

"What do you want?" She asked suspiciously, not lowering her wand.

"Well I'd like to shag you senseless," he said sardonically. "But I don't think Draco would leave my balls intact if I even tried that."

"I'm not joking here, Zabini," she said coldly. "How did you know who I was?"

"You think only your beloved order was on the battlefield that day?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "I saw what you did."

"No one was there," she said firmly. "I made sure."

"You wouldn't have known unless you casted a spell," he explained. "Honestly, Granger. You're a witch. You didn't think anyone could have Disillusioned themselves? Blimey, and you're supposed to be the smartest witch of our age."

"What do you want?" She asked again. How could she have been so stupid? So careless? She had ruined everything. Blaise had seen her. And now she'd never be able to bring Harry back.

He looked at her for a long moment. "I want a lot of things," he said finally. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"Why haven't you exposed me?"

"Because I have no reason to," he shrugged. "I saw you, Granger. And when you left, I followed you. Potter was dead. I knew there was nothing you could do. I thought maybe you had taken the disguise to leave England. But then you bought this little flat. I thought maybe you were bidding your time before you could leave without suspicion. And then for a year, I never saw you. It was like you disappeared. I was sure you had left."

"What about when you saw me with Malfoy?" She wasn't buying it. He had some ulterior motive. And she was going to find out what it was. He wouldn't be able to Disapparate with her wards in place and she was sure she could beat him if it came down to it. She just needed more information first.

"Well I'll admit, at first I wanted to see what you hoped to accomplish," he said, the smirk still on his face. "And honestly I think it's clear I'm not here to attack you. You can put away your wand."

She did not lower it. "And then?"

"It was amusing really, best friend of Harry Potter, Gryffindor princess keeping a Slytherin's bed warm," he said without hesitation. "I ignored that it was you under there. I pretended it was some other Gryffindor. But then it changed."

"How?"

He sighed and moved to sit down. Her wand followed his every step, ready to attack if he tried anything. He sat on her bed and looked at her, still smirking slightly. "I think I need to start at the beginning for you to understand. Might as well get comfortable, Granger, it's a long story. It goes all the way back to third year."

She did not move, just waiting for him to continue.

"It's your legs," he shrugged before continuing. "Third year was the year you slapped Draco, if you remember? Oh I would have paid to see that," he chuckled. "But alas, I just had to hear about it second hand later that night in the Slytherin Common Room. You caused quite a commotion that night, I'll have you know. Some, championed by Pansy, wanted to make you pay for hitting Draco. A mudblood daring to hit their beloved Draco Malfoy. I'm sure you can imagine the hatred against you that night. But for others, or well at least for me, it made me notice you for the first time. As a fellow student, I of course knew who you were. The smartest witch in our class, the bloody know it all. That's all you really were to me, just another student, one who beat me on every test and Harry Potter's best friend. As Draco's best friend, I knew a few more colorful descriptions of you, the least of which included your blood, of course. Still, you were barely a blip on my radar. Until you slapped him. A mudblood and you put Draco Malfoy in his place. I began to notice you if only because you were the Mudblood that had bested Draco. You had piqued my interest."

He paused and slowly she lowered her wand, though she kept it ready in her hand. Something was telling her that he wasn't going to attack her. Out of pride however, she remained standing while she waited for the rest of his story. She remembered slapping Malfoy, but she hadn't realized the ruckus it had caused.

"We never talked so I'm sure you never noticed me," he continued slowly. "But I noticed you. I wanted to know why Draco was so consumed by you. I watched when you answered questions in class, and when you broke up fights between Draco and Potter and Weasley. I watched you spend hours in the library. And I listened, as Draco was consumed by what he believed was hatred. All he did was talk about you, Potter's precious mudblood friend. You were the topic of interest that year and the years to follow. And then came the Yule Ball." He closed his eyes and smiled, as if he were in another time, seeing something only he could see.

"I don't think you know how beautiful you are," he said quietly, opening his eyes to look at her. "You were a vision that night. Gone were the baggy robes you hid behind. For the first time, Hogwarts was seeing you as more than Potter's bushy haired friend. The entire school noticed you that night, especially Draco."

"What?"

He smiled at her, no malice in his eyes. She wondered if she should believe him, but it seemed so improbable. No one ever noticed her for anything other than her mind, not even Harry or Ron. But his voice rang true.

"There's a fine line between love and hate, Granger, I'm sure you know that."

"So you're trying to tell me that Malfoy had feelings for me in our fourth year," she rolled her eyes. That she could not believe.

"Draco did not acknowledge what he was feeling. Instead, his hatred of you grew. It wasn't you really. It was because he could not accept even to himself that he was attracted to you."

She did not know what to say. He was throwing so much at her right now. The biggest question though was should she believe it.

He continued on. "That day of the final battle, when I saw you walking into the battlefield, I followed you. I saw what you did. And I saw when Weasley cried over your body. I'll admit, at first it was curiosity. I wanted to see what you'd do. Then you bought this little flat and I really thought you were going to leave. I decided it didn't matter if I didn't tell. After all, you were leaving."

"But I didn't," she said quietly.

"No," he said. "But I convinced myself you did. And time went by and I did not see this false face and I thought perhaps you really had left. It made it easier to forget you, to forget my betrayal."

"And then I saw you with Draco," he continued softly. "I knew it was you the moment I saw you. It had been a year and I was not familiar with this new face but I'd know you anywhere. You kept your eyes."

"I had to," she whispered.

"That's what saved you, you know. Your eyes. Draco recognized them without making the connection. Even if he did not see the face that accompanied them, your eyes made him feel something he had shut off for so long."

"I told you before, Draco does not love Astoria."

"You think he loves me?" She couldn't help but laugh. Draco Malfoy did not love her. She was his whore. She was just a hole for him to fill. He had made that abundantly clear.

"You think he doesn't?" Blaise raised an eyebrow at her. "You think he spares the lives of every witch he comes across, even when she tried to kill him? You think he would have let you live when that man said he was your father? Aren't you supposed to be bloody brilliant, Granger?"

"Men in love don't try to rape the ones they love in front of that person's father," she spat.

"He's not actually your father, Granger," he pointed out.

"That's not the point!" She insisted. "Besides, Malfoy doesn't know that."

"Believe it or not, Granger, but he was actually trying to save your life."

She chose to ignore that. "So you really expect me to believe that you saved me to help Draco who loves me?"

"Yes," he said simply.

"You know who I am, Zabini," she rolled her eyes. "You should know I'm not that thick."

"Granger, you asked me what I want," he said after a long moment. "I want to go back to my old life, where the only thing I had to worry about was sneaking out of girls' bedrooms before their husbands came home. I want to spend my life traveling and actually living. I want The Dark Lord's head on a stick. And I want Draco and I to come out on the other side with our lives and maybe a little semblance of dignity. And I think that - no I know that you're the only person who could help me."

"Why would I help you do that?" She actually laughed. "First of all, what am I even supposed to do? Harry's dead. Your master reigns supreme. That's it. There's no going back. And even if I could somehow fix it all, you and Malfoy are Death Eaters. You think I'll have any sway on the punishments when it's all said and done?"

"Yes I do," he said simply. "You've forgotten who you are, Granger."

"I did," she admitted after a moment. "But I remember now, and I'm telling you, it doesn't even matter. Because we've lost already. Harry's gone."

She didn't add that she was going to bring him back. He did not need to know that. No one could. And she was so close, she could feel it. Harry would be back soon, she knew it.

"But the rebels still fight in his name," Blaise reminded her. "Look all I'm saying is that I want Draco and I to come out of this as unscathed as possible, and I'm willing to do anything to make sure that happens."

"Why?" She couldn't help but ask. "You and Malfoy are almost as high as Voldemort himself. Why would you want to put your life and his at the hands and mercy of the other side?"

"Because this life, what we do, it eats away at us," he said quietly. "We kill and we destroy and we sow fear into the hearts of men. And for what? For the darkness to grow inside of us? This isn't a way to live, Granger. It's a way to die, slowly and painfully, far worse than our victims."

"And why Malfoy?"

"Because he's my best mate, like a brother to me," Blaise said firmly. "I'd do anything for him. I think that's the main reason I'm coming to you now. I know you think you're just his whore. But it's so much more than that, Granger. Has he loved you since Fourth Year? Who knows? But he loves you now, even if he won't admit it. He loves you so much that he's willing to have you hate him than have you killed."

"Some way to show it," she grumbled.

"And I think maybe you love him too," he continued as if she hasn't spoken. "Or at least care for him. And he deserves that. He deserves to have someone care for him and love him if they can."

"I don't know if I can be that person," she admitted quietly.

"Maybe you can and maybe you can't," he shrugged. "But he deserves a chance in a normal world, not one run by the Dark Lord."

She stood there for a moment, trying to think of what to do. She could obliviate him, but then he had seen her over a year ago. Could she be sure to erase the memories far back enough? Or she could kill him, though she had already proved to herself that she was not a coldblooded killer. What was left though? "I don't understand what you want me to do," she said quietly, stalling for time as she tried to think of a plan.

"The rebels are finally gaining on us," he told her conspiratorially. "And I know they could use your help. You're bloody Hermione Granger after all. But more than that, I know what they need as much as they need Potter."

"And what is that?"

"Information," he smirked. "I'd be willing to give you that information, Granger."

"In exchange for leniency or pardons when this is all over," she finished for him.

"Now you're getting it," he grinned. "What do you say, Granger? Ready to fight the good fight again?"

She didn't even have to think about it. This was what she was waiting for. This was her last step to getting Harry back.

"Yes."

* * *

**NEW UPDATE! I KNOW I KNOW I SUCK. IT'S BEEN FOREVER. IM SORRY! Truth is, I was feeling kind of uninspired with Dramione lately. But then I just read lots of fanfics to cure that :) Seriously though I've been stuck on this for a while and too consumed with my new Captain Swan ship and fanfic. And real life really enjoys kicking my ass. BUT I REALLY NEED TO FINISH THIS!**

**And so! I am going to do just that! I'm omitting some of the stuff I had planned that was kind of filler stuff and getting the ball rolling, hence the shit that goes down in this chapter! (FINALLY YOU FIND OUT ABOUT BLAISE ;])I know it's not the best but I hope you enjoyed it! And I'll try to get more out ASAP!**

**Let me know what you thought of the update :D**


	29. Lessons Learned

Hermione Granger had decided it was time to bring Harry back. Well not just this moment but it was time to get everything ready. It was time to plan her break in to the Ministry and to prepare what she needed. Because Blaise had come through, because she knew now that the rebels had taken out a base camp of the Death Eaters and had struck a fatal blow in their regime. Many of the head Death Eaters had been killed including Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange.

Hermione knew that if she brought Harry back now, together they could end this. Finally the wizarding world could begin to mend. It wouldn't take back the horrors that had taken place or bring back the lives that had been taken. But maybe them, just maybe, wizards and witches in England would be able to start moving on. And more than anything, Harry would be able to redeem her. Her actions, her atrocities would be forgiven because she had done them for him, for the world, for the greater good.

But for now, she had other things to worry about. Blaise had made a condition to their little deal. She had to go back to Draco Malfoy.

She arrived at the Manor in nothing but a robe. He didn't want her to undress her. And she wanted to send him a message, that she knew she was just his whore. Blaise had said she had to go back, he hasn't said how.

One of the house elves silently and immediately led her to his study. Good, it didn't seem appropriate to use a bed anymore. She'd let him fuck her and then leave. On any surface available.

He looked up in surprise when she walked in. "Jean? What are you doing here?"

"My duty," she said simply before unfastening her robe and letting it drop to the floor.

His eyes widened as they took in her naked form. "What are you-."

"I'm here for my job," she answered before he could even finish. He would realize after this, he would know that she knew where her place was. She would understand what they were really doing. She wouldn't be tricked with false words and fake emotions. She was Draco Malfoy's whore, and until she brought Harry back, that was the only thing she'd be. She had been foolish for thinking perhaps this was turning into something else. He had made that abundantly clear. "Well?"

He made no move towards her. He seemed frozen in his spot. A dark look came across his face. "You should leave now," he said coldly.

"Isn't this what you want?" She raised an eyebrow. She was growing impatient. Blaise told her he'd meet her soon at her flat with new intel. She didn't have all day here.

He remained silent, just watching her, a million emotions playing on her face. She reminded herself to not care about that. She knew what Blaise had said about him, that he actually cared about her, maybe even loved her. But she didn't believe it. And even if it was true, it didn't change the fact that the moment he had tried to rape her in front of the man he thought was her father, he had reminded her what this was. It was survival. And Hermione Granger was a survivor.

She huffed in frustration. "Fine, I'll start it off for you," she said, walking over to him. She wasn't sure why she didn't just leave. He clearly did not want her right now. But she had a point to prove. She might have remembered what this was, but it was time to remind him too.

He still made no movements as she sat on his desk in front of him, her legs spread apart. Keeping her eyes on his, her fingers grazed her breasts. She derived no pleasure from it, noticing how different it felt from when he touched her. However, she still pushed forward. Her fingers travelled down further still until she flicked her nub with her thumb. His breath hitched though he just continued to stare at her.

She sighed in frustration as she played with herself, rubbing her clit in circles. It felt different, odd, and in satisfying, but she continued anyway.

It was when she ran a finger over her slit and moved to push it into herself that he finally moved. He grabbed her hand and wretched it away. But he didn't begin touching her, as she would have expected. Instead he looked at her coldly, standing and giving her his robe.

He waited until she had wrapped it around herself to speak. "You need to go. Now."

She got off the desk and looked at him, trying to keep her expression cold and distant, trying not to let the rejection show. She shouldn't have felt disappointment, but she did. She wasn't even sure why. Clearly he had received the message she had come to send. She was his whore and nothing more. Then why did the win feel so empty?

She walked towards the door and stopped at the door when she heard his quiet words. "This isn't what I wanted."

She whirled around and faced him, all disappointment gone and replaced with only anger. "Then what do you want?" she demanded. "Because this is what our deal was. I am your whore. What more do you want from me? Would you like me to track down my mother? Maybe you can fuck me in front of her too."

He cringed at the words. "Jean..."

"No," she cut him off. Despite her question, she really didn't want to hear whatever he had to say. Because in the end, it didn't change what happened. "You made it this when you tried to rape me in front of my father."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I know that doesn't change it but I am. Can't we just forget it happened? I told you before, I did it to save both our lives."

"Wow," she laughed coldly. "Finally the Death Eater comes out. Just like you people isn't it? Sacrifice the few to save your own skins."

"Not mine," he said, his voice turning cold. Clearly she had stepped over a line. "I am not my father. I did that for you, to save you. I don't really give two shits if he kills me."

She clapped for him, slowly. She knew he expected her to back down as his dark side started to show but Hermione Granger had never been afraid of Draco Malfoy, and she was not about to start now. "Good for you, Draco, you one upped your father. You didn't sacrifice your family for a demented bigot. You didn't sell out your son to a mad hypocrite. That doesn't _not_ make you your father's son. Because raping a girl in front of her father, for any reason, sounds a lot like something Lucius would do."

"And how would you know so well what he would do?" He shot at her.

"Everyone knew what Lucius Malfoy was capable of," she said quickly. She had to be careful. She had almost given away too much.

"Lucius, not me," he said coldly.

"And yet your actions prove otherwise," she retorted. "Tell me, Draco, where's my father? How long after I left this place did you give him over to Voldemort? To his death?"

He did not say anything to that.

"Exactly," she said quietly. "You may think you're different from your father, but you're just the same."

"No I'm not," he said firmly. His tone was hard and cold but she could hear the conflict behind it. It was as if he was trying to convince himself more than her.

"I hear your father kept mistresses too," she pushed further. She didn't know what she was trying to do now, why she didn't just turn and walk out. But she couldn't. Because deep down she wanted him to redeem himself to her. Because she needed him to. Because Harry wouldn't be able to redeem him. Because, as she stood here, fighting and pushing and prodding him, she wanted him to tell her that she hasn't just imagined it all. That maybe, just maybe they really had crossed 'that line'.

"Yeah he did," he said slowly. "He kept a whole harem of them and it killed my mother every second. Oh she knew." He answered her unspoken question.

"And you only keep one," she said quietly. "One Astoria doesn't know about. Is that how you're different, Draco? Because you're a better liar than your father?"

"My father never tried to hide it," he said coldly. "He killed half the girls he fucked. He never would have saved you that day. He would have fucked you and done away with you. My father had no soul, ever."

She could hear the unspoken words ringing in the air. "And you lost yours by choice," she finished quietly for him. She could see the torment on his face, the resignation, the defeat. She looked at man who was finally letting his defenses down and showing her just how broken he had become. Despite her disgust at what he had done, despite her anger now, she couldn't help but feel for him. To feel as if you had lost your soul, it must be a horrid thing. Hermione Granger had done many things that would have taken the soul of many a people weaker than her. But in her heart she knew that Harry would redeem her because everything she had done, she had done for the greater good. She had done it to save the world. When this was over, she would be a hero. But Draco? No matter the victories for his side, he would never be that.

"I lost my right to a choice when I was born," he said, his voice just as quiet. He looked away for a moment before looking at her. In that moment, the anguish was gone, and the wall was back up. His eyes were cold and distant. "You should go now."

She just nodded and turned to leave. Just as she closed the door behind her, so soft she wasn't even sure she heard them, she heard him say, "I am not my father."

Maybe Draco Malfoy did not need to be redeemed as she needed to be. Maybe his redemption would come differently, one day, when all this was over. As she left the manor, she thought that maybe, just maybe, all Draco needed someone to realize, even now, even as Lucius's body rotted in the earth cold and buried, was that he was not his father. And that thought, that sad, pitiful thought made it that much harder to believe she still hated him.

* * *

**NEW UPDATE! I promised it would be sooner :D This is a gift for all you wonderful people because I suck at updating! I know it's shorter than usual, but I need to end it here. You shall see why later :D Hope you like it! Let me know what you think! **


	30. A Lot To Think About

Hermione Granger often used to sit in the Gryffindor Common Room or the Hogwarts Library and imagine her future. She had always pictured herself getting married to Ron in her mother's wedding dress, made of beautiful silk and lace. She had always pictured two children, a boy named Hugo, and a girl named Rose. The boy would be the exact copy of Ron, lazy, loud, and always hungry, but he would have the biggest heart, and be loyal to the end. The girl, oh she would be her mother's daughter, of course, smart and eager, always thirsty for knowledge. She used to picture them spending the holidays with the rest of the Weasley clan at the Burrow with Harry and Ginny, and their children, and everyone else. She used to imagine how happy she'd be, and how wonderful she and Ron would be together. But then, Ron was killed. And Harry walked off to meet his death. And most of the Weasley clan had been decimated. Those who remained had fled to Romania with Charlie. In a single moment, her future had ended.

She sighed as she walked back to her flat. Oh sure she could have Apparated right in, but she knew Blaise would be there waiting for her, and she needed a moment alone. She needed a moment to think, especially now that she was herself again. Jean Wyler had done a hell of a job erasing Hermione Granger from the world, but now she was back. And she had a lot to think about. What would happen if she survived bringing Harry back? What would happen if they managed to kill Voldemort and ended the war? When Jean Wyler had consumed her, she had been sure she would not make it through bringing Harry back. But Hermione Granger was stronger than Jean. She could survive. And if she did, she would need a plan. After all, Hermione Granger was nothing if not always prepared.

"Going to hide from me all night, Granger?" Blaise's voice cut through her thoughts.

She whirled around, looking around to make sure no one had heard. "Zabini," she hissed. "What if someone hears you?"

"Relax," he rolled his eyes, smirking. "No one's around. And anyone who might be, well they're hiding good and proper at the sight of me."

"You're overly confident for a person who needs my help," she huffed.

"No, I'm overly confident as a person whose help you need," he said nonchalantly. "Any perks that come in it for me are just a plus. Perks meaning leniency when this is all over. I have everything now, Granger."

She didn't say anything, because she had nothing to say. He was right. She needed him a lot more than he needed her. All he would have to do is stop giving her information and she would be right back where she started. Without her, he'd continue living the high life he was living now. Either way, it was a win win for him while it was a necessity for her.

"Shall we adjourn to your flat?" He asked with a smirk, knowing he had her.

She just glared at him before she nodded. Grabbing his arm, she Apparated them to her flat, since only she could Apparate there. Thank Merlin for her brains.

She let go of him the moment they reappeared into her flat. "Well?" She demanded. "What do you have for me today?"

"Ah, ah, ah," he tutted. "Before I spill, I have a few questions of my own."

She waited, trying to keep a nonchalant look on her face, though she was anything but. She knew what he would want to know. And she also knew he wouldn't like her answer.

"Did you go to him today?" he asked, taking in the robe she was wearing. His robe.

She turned scarlet as she remembered she wore nothing underneath it. She pulled it tighter around herself. "I did."

"And?" he prodded.

"And he didn't want me today," she said vaguely.

"That doesn't make sense," he said, rolling his eyes. "He always would want you. What did you do?"

"How do you know it was me?" She asked, slightly offended.

"Because the only reason Draco would be against it was if your loud know-it-all mouth got in the way."

She glared at him. "I went to him, just like you wanted. It's not my fault he didn't like it in the capacity I am willing to give."

"And what capacity is that exactly?" He raised an eyebrow.

"As his whore." She did not blink as she said it. She showed no emotions. Because that was what Draco Malfoy had driven her to, an emotionless whore, his emotionless whore.

Blaise glared at her, his look throwing daggers at her. "That wasn't part of our deal," he said coldly.

"No, our deal was that I would go to him, and I did," she said simply.

They glared at each other for a moment before Blaise chuckled. "Quite high handed of you, Granger. Very Slytherin of you."

"And risking your privates for talking to me like that is quite Gryffindor of you," she shot back.

He just smirked at her for a moment before he sighed. "Draco isn't like what you think he is," he said quietly.

"You mean he's not the type of man who tries to rape a girl in front of her father?" She retorted. She knew she had used the excuse before, but she didn't care. Nothing was going to change her mind about how wrong that was.

"No," he said firmly. "He's the type of man that will do something that will make him hate himself so long as it keeps you alive."

She just glanced at him. That was what Draco had said too, that he had done it to protect her. But was that reason enough? She wasn't sure.

"Look, Granger," Blaise sighed. "I'm not here to argue the finer points that are Draco Malfoy with you."

"You brought it up."

"Always have to have the last word, don't you, Granger?" He smirked slightly. "Very well. You're right, as usual. I brought it up. Because I wanted to remind you of why I'm doing this. And for whom."

"For the love of your life, I got the message," she rolled her eyes.

"Wrong this time, Granger," he chuckled once. "I'm doing this for the love of your life. And for the love of his. If she'll ever give him a chance again, that is."

She but her lip to stop herself from retorting. Something told her Blaise would not appreciate the next words that came from her mouth in regards to that. "Do you have information for me or not?" She asked instead.

"The rebels just hit His forces again," he said. "This time it was a new recruit training ground. Several people on our side are dead. You wouldn't know a lot of them. They were new recruits. But Goyle Sr was killed. So was Rookwood, and both Carrows. They only managed to kill one of the rebels, though the official order is to catch one alive. He was not pleased with Draco for that."

"Draco killed him?"

"Yup," Blaise said. "I think it was so they wouldn't find out that he let your pretend father go."

Her jaw almost dropped as she looked at him, sure she hadn't heard right. "What?"

"If you had actually gone to him without malice, perhaps he would have told you himself," Blaise smirked in satisfaction at catching her off guard. "He released him last night, and Transfigured a body to look like him. The official story is that the man had snuck a knife in and killed himself."

She couldn't believe it. Malfoy had actually let him go, the man he thought was her father, a known rebel. She knew it could have meant death for him. "Why?" She couldn't help but ask.

"You're supposed to be the brightest witch of our age, Granger," Blaise rolled his eyes. "Why don't you make an educated guess?"

She chose to ignore that. She didn't want to think about why he would do that, and what it meant. "Wouldn't the Dark Lord kill him for it?"

"Not when Draco is the highest ranking Death Eater after Voldemort himself," Blaise shrugged. "And especially not when he got some information off of him first. I guess we have you to thank for that."

She took a moment to collect herself. He had given her much to think about. Including how powerful the rebels had become. She needed to plan her break in to the Ministry. It was time to being Harry back, at least as soon as everything was prepared. Well, almost time. She couldn't explain it, but there was something missing. There was one vital piece she was missing that she needed before she went to get him. She just for the life of her didn't know what it was exactly. "Do you have any more information for me?"

"Not at the moment," he said. "I'll tell you our main strategies and key points once you meet the rebels and have an actual plan of action. No offense, Granger, but as brilliant as you may be, I don't want to risk putting too many eggs in the same basket so to speak. At least, not until you can actually use it."

She nodded, understanding. After a year of living on the fringes of life trying to survive, she could understand that. "I'll see you soon then," she said. "Thanks."

He nodded at the dismissal and started towards the door.

"And Blaise?" She stopped him.

He turned his head to look at her.

"Maybe I can give him another chance."

He just smirked, nodding slightly before leaving her flat. She waited until the door closed before she let out a deep breath and fell into a chair.

Draco had let the man go, a man he thought was her father. From his words, Blaise was more than implying that he had done it for her, for his feelings for her. Was it such? Could Draco Malfoy truly not be the complete monster she believed him to be? Okay so maybe she wasn't ready to forgive him for trying to rape her in front of her father, no matter his reasons. But maybe she was ready to begin to try.

With a last breath and a moment of hesitation, she stood and Apparated out. Maybe she was ready to begin forgiving him. Maybe he wasn't what she had imagined. Sure, he was still a Death Eater, and sure he had still committed many atrocities, but in the world they had been forced to live in, hadn't they all committed actions that would haunt their souls for eternity?

She appeared by the Manor and walked to the door, slowly, timidly. She was sure he wouldn't want to see her, but she had to know. She had to find out if it was really for her, if he wasn't the monster she believed, if maybe, just maybe, he was changing. And she knew the only way she'd find out was from the snake's mouth itself.

This time, when she knocked on the massive doors, it was not the usual house elves that answered. It was Draco himself. Seeing him there, seeing his expression, full of shock and regret, rendered her speechless. Why had she come again? Fuck.

"Jean?" his tone sounding like he was repressing any trace of hope.

"Hi." For all her brilliance, for all her eloquence, for all her smart ass comments, that was all she could say.

* * *

**WHAT DID YOU GUYS THINK? We're getting closer and closer the end folks. I'm going to estimate maybe 10 more chapters, give or take a few. Let me know what you thought of this! :)**


	31. It's Time To Begin Isn't It?

There had been very few times in his life that Dravo Malfoy had been rendered speechless. When his father died, for example. It may have been unrealistic, but he had expected his father to live forever. His mother's last words to him had been another, when she told him to run, to flee England and never look back. Jean coming into his home before, acting like a whore, like his whore, had been the last. Now, it seemed, the witch had rendered him speechless once again as he led her to his office. Only hours ago, he had sent her away, the image of her acting like all he wanted was her body, the knowledge that it was his fault they had come to that, and the realization that he actually cared had been what had done him in then. Now, she was back. And he knew something was different.

Gone was the defiant look in her eyes. Gone was the emptiness she had held before. She seemed confused now, as if she wasn't quite sure of how she had ended up on his door step. And yet, there she was, his robes still around her shoulders.

He closed the door and slowly, turned to face her. He just stared at her, waiting for her to speak. He himself had nothing to say really. He knew any words that came out of his mouth would be too revealing, too exposing. She fidgeted under his gaze for a moment.

"You let him go," she said finally, her voice barely over a whisper.

Ah, so that was what it was. She had heard somehow that he had let her father go, that he had defied the Dark Lord, that he had risked his life. "How did you find out?" He asked, though he already knew. There was only one person in all of England that knew, at least besides himself and the man in question.

"Blaise," she admitted. "I ran into him at the pub. And he mentioned it."

"He mentioned it," he repeated flatly. He knew right away something was going on. There was no way that Blaise would just give up that information, not when he knew what was at stake. But he remained silent. He would ask Blaise about it later.

"Well, he implied it," she said quickly, too quickly, just deepening his suspicions.

"I see."

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I know you didn't have to."

He didn't say anything, just staring at her. She had something more to say, he could see it in her eyes.

"And I - you - and - why did you do it?" she blurted finally. "I mean, you didn't have to. You could have killed him, you should have killed him."

"You're upset that I let your father go?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

Her cheeks flushed as she sputtered on. "Of course not! I'm very grateful you did. But I need to know why. Why did you let him go?"

He was quiet for a long minute. That was a question he had asked himself many times. It was dangerous, so dangerous to do what he did. He was risking his own life, something he wasn't exactly known for. Draco Malfoy might not want to continue his family line, but that did not mean he himself wanted to die. He had no death wish. And yet, he had pretty much signed it when he let the man go. If he was caught... Draco didn't even want to think of what would happen to him. Then why did he do it? It was something that had taken him a long time to answer.

"You know," he said quietly. He was sure she did.

"I need to hear you say it," she said, her voice just as low. "I need to know for sure."

He sighed. "Why? You know why I did it."

"Say it," she demanded roughly.

When he remained silent, she came to him, and put her hand on his cheek. She stared into his eyes, those brown eyes, reminding him of something he didn't know he was missing, something familiar, something he could not quite grasp.

"Say it," she ordered again softly, her eyes never leaving his.

"I did it for you," he said finally, trying to search her eyes, trying to figure out their hold on him.

That seemed to be all she needed to hear. Then, Jean Wyler did something he had never expected. For the third time, she had rendered him speechless. This time, all it took was for her to take a step forward and kiss him.

* * *

This was a different kiss than the ones they had shared before. This time, it was her demanding his attention. This time, it was she who controlled their kiss. She let go of his cheek and grabbed his hands, never stopping the kiss. She guided them to her waist and reached up, her fingers easing through his hair.

It was only when her tongue grazed his bottom lip that he finally stepped into the kiss, his arms tightening around her waist, pulling her closer, and opening his mouth to let her in. Still, though, he let her control it, let her control him.

She felt such power in it, though she knew he could turn the tables so easily. She pulled back from him, an idea coming over her. He looked at her half dazed and half confused as she took his hand with a smirk and led him to the couch in his study. Turning back to him, she pushed him down, and swatted his hand away when he reached for her.

"What..." He started.

But he shut his mouth when she dropped his robes from her shoulders. She was still naked underneath. His breath hitched as he looked at her, his gaze traveling over her body. Jean Wyler might have gone self-conscious at his stare, but Hermione Granger? Hermione Granger was going to show him really who was boss.

Smiling seductively, she moved over him, straddling his lap. Keeping her eyes on his, she leaned forward and claimed his hips again. He put his hands on her hips, caressing every inch of her he could. He let her control it again, and Hermione took full advantage of that. _She _demanded from him, _she _captivated him, _she _caused his head to spin. She wanted very part of him, the truth of that both terrifying her and thrilling her. She wasn't sure why, she really wasn't. But something had changed between them, and while she had suspected it for a while now, it seemed he had finally caught up,

All too soon, he had enough with submission. Because his hands gripped her thighs roughly, and just like that, he took back all control. One hand moved to her breasts, kneading one and then the other, his lips never leaving hers. She gripped his shoulders as she lost herself to him.

Finally, he pulled away, and silver met brown again. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he took one of her hands from his shoulders. Slowly, torturously, he took a finger into her mouth, his tongue lathing it around. Each circle of his tongue sent another jolt to her core. When he was satisfied, he released her finger with a _pop _before moving their joint hands down her body to her core. He used her fingers to rub her swollen clit.

Hermione moaned loudly when he slid a finger across her slit. "So wet for me," he said throatily. His lips latched on to her throat, his lips and tongue and teeth nipping at her as he guided her hands over herself. She whimpered, when his other hand took his cock and rubbed it against her clit and fingers. "Are you ready for me already, love?" he asked against her skin.

She just moaned her response, unable to speak. Every flick of his tongue, every movement of their joined fingers was causing her to move closer and closer to the edge. But she knew what she truly needed. She needed him inside her. She needed him to fill her, to stretch her, to make her scream in passion. It was something only he could do, and now that she had had him, something she would let _only him_ _do_.

Seeming to sense her need, he positioned himself and thrust up slightly. She went to pull her fingers away, but he grabbed her wrist, keeping them there. When she looked up in question, he responded, "I want you to feel this. I want you to feel me." And he positioned her fingers so that she could feel every ridge, every glorious fucking inch of him as he pulled her down completely on him.

Both their eyes were on their joining, and it was the moment erotic thing Hermione had ever felt. She gripped his shoulder with her free hand and looked up at him. Only when he looked up at her again did she slowly, oh so slowly raise herself and push down again.

With a grunt, he released her hand with a final order to keep it where it was, and gripped her thighs. He wasn't going to lose control, not again, not now, not like this, when they both needed this, when they both were craving it. As he pulled her down to meet his every thrust, he claimed her lips again, their lips and hands and bodies working together in perfect synchronization to take them where they wanted to go. She was moaning into his mouth as his thrusts got deeper and harder and faster. But it seemed it was not enough for him, because before she knew it, he stood up with her in his arms, his cock still buried inside her, and turned them around, putting her onto her back, and bringing her knees up over his shoulders. With one final peck, he began thrusting again. The new position allowed him to go deeper, so much deeper.

She was on fire. Every nerve in her body was begging for release. She was coming undone at his inferno. She finally had to move her hand to grip both shoulders, her fingers clawing at his skin. Closer and closer he brought her to the edge. It was when his hand replaced hers over her clit and his thumb vibrated over her swollen nub that she finally came undone, arching her back as her head was thrown back in pleasure. After a few thrusts, he joined her in her release, calling out her name.

And just like that, she knew what had been missing. She knew what had held her back on bringing Harry back now. It was this. It was Draco. She needed to know how he felt. More importantly, she needed to know how _she _felt. Because it was the one thing that was going to save her. It wasn't just bringing Harry back that was going to erase all her sins. No, Draco Malfoy was living proof that not all sins faded. But she knew now what her true motivation was for bringing Harry back, and it would be the one thing that would be the difference between life and death for her during the spell. Because now, she knew what she was bringing him back for. Oh sure, she missed him. She missed him more than anything. But more than that, she was bringing him back to save moments like this, to create moments for people, to allow them time to come to realizations about their feelings, to feel the way she was feeling now. She was bringing him back to end this, for love. That had always been the key. Whatever invisible force that had been stopping her from going to the Ministry to get Harry back now snapped. And she knew what she had to do.

She needed Harry to come back so she could be herself again. And she knew now that it was finally time. Because it wasn't her name that he was calling. It came as a painful realization as he fell on the side of her, panting. He wasn't calling her name. He never had. It was not with her whom things had changed for them. It was Jean Wyler. It was this false face and false life. And for the first time since their agreement had started, she actually cared. She wanted it to be _her _name. She wanted him to know who she really was and to make _her _feel special. She wanted him to care for _her. _

Draco kissed her shoulder, and stood up, pulling her with him. "Stay the night," he said simply before he led her out of the study, and presumably to his bedroom. He held her hand as they walked there in silence.

For a year, Hermione Granger had lived the life of someone else. She had lived a half-life, trying to survive for the sole purpose of bringing Harry back. She had no friends anymore. Nor did she want them. She had been essentially by herself for that year. But as she looked at the hand holding hers and the man to whom it belonged, Hermione Granger realized that she had never felt so alone.

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**NEW CHAPTER! What did you guys think? She finally realizes it's time to go get Harry back wooo! **

**Hahaha I'm sitting in the airport right now writing this. I hope no one is reading over my shoulder as I write smut XD**

**Anyways, as always, thank you all for the reviews and comments and feedback. It really means a lot, and seriously you guys make me smile like crazy! Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know, yeah? x**


	32. Me Myself and I

"Are you sure about this, Granger?" Blaise asked for the millionth time. Hermione was really regretting telling him what she was doing – or rather part of what she was doing. She couldn't tell him the whole plan of course. That would be stupid. That would be too trusting. And if Hermione Granger had learned anything in her life, it was that trust was not something to give away so easily. And while Blaise Zabini had made clear where his loyalties lied (with himself and Draco), she was not eager to jump into the snake's nest any time soon – so to speak. And so, Blaise knew she was going to break into the Ministry of Magic, but he had no idea why.

"I'm sure," she said again. She was getting together the final things she needed. She had told Blaise about her little expedition because it would save her the trouble and time of staking out the Ministry to figure out how to get in. With Blaise's position, she knew he would be able to help her. And luckily, he had been able to come through. He had shown up today with times and names of who was going to be there and when. He had routes and blueprints. And even a token for her to get in.

"But why?" he demanded, _again._ "Why in Merlin's blue ball sacs would you ever want to break into the Ministry? You are aware they work for Voldemort, right? They're not exactly Mudblood and traitor friendly."

"Don't insult my intelligence, Blaise," she glared at him, ignoring his use of the derogatory term. "I know the English Ministry is the power point of your new regime. Voldemort's strength without even having to sit behind the desk himself."

"Then why the hell are you trying to break in?" he was simply dumbfounded.

"Look, all you need to know is that this is going to help us," she said calmly. "It's the first step to taking Voldemort down."

"Seeing as I'm risking my arse to help you, I think I'm entitled to a little more than that," he rolled his eyes.

"Risking your arse," she laughed. "If I am successful, you win. If I die, you still sit on top of the world, and you win. How is any part of this bad for you?"

"Well, if Draco finds out, I could have my bullocks cursed off," Blaise smirked slightly.

"You know he'll find out eventually, right?" she rolled her eyes. "You know… if I win and he's not in Azkaban. He'll know what you did."

"At least then we'll both be out of Azkaban, and he'll forgive me for not having to end up in that hell hole. If he found out now," he shrugged. "He wouldn't be too happy."

She sighed, and turned back to filling the polyjuice potion into a flask. She was going to need half her stock by the time this was through. She had already put away all the stuff she would need for the spell to bring Harry back into her moleskin. She didn't want Blaise to see those things on the off chance he knew what they would do.

Blaise finally seemed to give up his argument and accepted she was going through with this. He watched her for a moment. "You went to see Draco again," he said simply, changing the subject.

"And you know that how exactly?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"He may have mentioned it," Blaise said nonchalantly. "When he was about to curse my bullocks off for telling you he released your father. Thanks for that."

She cringed. She hadn't thought Draco would care really. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he shrugged. "I think he was too glad that you went back to really give it to me."

She didn't say anything, just paying total attention to her task. She knew he was fishing for information. But she wasn't even sure of the information herself. Sure, she knew something had changed between them, but to the extent it did… she sighed, remembering that morning…

* * *

_She woke up with one arm draped under her waist and another under her head. She had somehow gotten into an awkward sleeping position, and Draco had molded himself to it, holding her against him. She looked at him, sleeping and peaceful. She stared at him for a few moments, trying to comprehend what had happened the night before. When had they gotten _here_? When did he become someone she cared about? When did she start caring that it was Jean Wyler he had freed the man for, who he had all but admitted he cared for? Why did she care that he was calling Jean Wyler's name, and not her own? _

"_I can feel you staring at me," he mumbled, his eyes still closed._

"_Sorry, I just – I just woke up," she said unintelligibly. _

_A small smile came across his face though his eyes stayed closed. "At which time you decided it was more prudent to stare at me."_

_She scoffed, starting to detangle herself. But he held her tighter, pulling her closer. She sighed, and stilled herself. Draco pressed a light kiss to her bare shoulder, and she realized how intimate this was, how different than usual. Sure, they had woken up together before, but they had never done – this. The light banter, his fingers sensuously grazing her hip, his lips pressing against her shoulder. It was so much more intimate. She wasn't sure how to handle this. _

"_I ended it with Astoria," he said quietly, his eyes finally opening and setting on her. It took her a moment to comprehend that. "Last night, before you came, I Floo'ed to her. Turns out, she was actually happy about it. There's some bloke in France that she fancies."_

"_Isn't You Know Who going to be mad about that?" she asked, not sure what else to say._

"_I'm sure he already knows, and I'm sure he's furious," he mumbled._

"_Why?"_

"_You need to stop asking me that," he said, his voice low._

* * *

"Anyway, I wonder who the bloke is," Blaise, she realized, was talking to her. "I mean, it's not like Astoria to find another bloke. Every since Hogwarts, she had her sights on Draco. Though, she couldn't admit it, of course. Pansy would have skinned her alive. But still, I thought he was the only one for her, or whatever that sentimental shite is."

She just stared at him, having only listened to half his rant.

"Either way, kudos to whatever you did, Granger," Blaise continued. "I have never known Draco to second guess himself."

"Blaise, really, I have to concentrate here," she sighed, not wanting to talk about this anymore. Because she had realized how much he cared for Jean Wyler. It was that moment that it truly hit her how she was two people, two people with two different lives. He was saying these things, doing these things, making these grand gestures for Jean Wyler, not her. And she knew that Jean Wyler wasn't going to exist for much longer, not when she was about to go bring Harry back.

Blaise looked at the clock on her wall. "It's almost time. You ready?"

She sighed and looked at the time. She put all the ingredients into her moleskin and took a deep breath. "Almost. There's only one thing left."

She walked over to her mirror and stared at her reflection for a long moment. Jean Wyler stared back at her. But Jean Wyler was not Harry Potter's best friend. It had taken this morning to make her realize, but she was two different people. Jean Wyler and Hermione Granger were not the same. And if she was going to do this, if she was going to break into the Ministry of Magic and bring Harry back through the veil, she would do it as herself. She would do it as Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age. She had to.

She waved her wand, and slowly, watched her straight blond hair turn brown and unruly, her features transforming. The only thing that remained the same were her brown eyes. And though it was her, the face staring back at her seemed so foreign now. She had spent so much time as Jean Wyler. Seeing her own reflection was strange. How odd that was? This was her. This was Hermione Granger, and suddenly, she felt strange in her own skin.

"Damn, Granger," Blaise said with a whistle. "I never thought I'd be so glad to see you. But are you sure, I mean, being Draco's blonde girl might be a good thing. In case you're caught, I mean."

"No," she said firmly. "I am Hermione Granger, and I will do this as Hermione Granger." She said this more to herself than to Blaise. She was not a stranger, she was not to feel odd as herself. She would not think of Draco now. She couldn't. She had to bring Harry back. And she had to survive it. She was the brightest witch of her age. She had survived as a Mudblood in a world where they were hunted and killed for sport for a whole year. She had seen the depths of hell and she was back.

"Well then, Granger, it is good to have you back," and with that, he left her flat.

She smiled to herself. Yes, she was definitely back.

* * *

**NEW CHAPTER! What did you think? Let me know, yeah? I actually kind of liked this one. But womp womp it's getting closer and closer to the end D: **


	33. Into The Darkness

The Ministry was a whole new world. She knew it had changed. She knew it was under the rule of Voldemort now, as was all of The English wizarding world. But it was unnerving still to see just how different that world had become. Sure, she had seen it on the streets for the past year, but this was different. Voldemort or not, this was a powerful place with powerful people. It was the center of their world, the lawmaking power. And it was completely foreign.

The original fountain that stood in the atrium had been destroyed long ago. She had seen the other one already, with muggles in their 'rightful' place under wizards. But it had been changed again. No longer needing to pretense who was in charge, there was now a statue of Voldemort himself with his subjects underneath, worshipping him. At their feet, lay marble dead bodies. The water was red, and as it flowed only from said bodies, she knew it was supposed to be blood. She suppressed a shudder as she hurried by it, clutching Harry's Invisibility Cloak tighter around her. She wore a different face for the time being, one she had polyjuiced herself into. Still, the Cloak was just an added precaution. She didn't want to be seen, to be noticed. It would all run much more smoothly if she wasn't.

She hurried past the wizards who ruled their world according to Voldemort's principles, trying not to touch any of them. She knew where she was going, of course, she remembered it from when they had come to the Department of mysteries in their fifth year. Despite all the changes to the foundation of the place, she was still able to make her way back. She entered the elevator, and hid in the far corner as it jerked away. Unfortunately, it seemed no one was going to her floor. She waited until the last of the patrons had left before pushing the button for the Department of Mysteries.

She had heard a rumor that the department was now responsible for finding a cure to what they believed was an infestation. They were to rid Muggleborns of ever receiving their magic, though she knew it was futile. They were wizards. They did not understand the science of it. To the new regime, the Muggleborns had stolen their magic, a magic they had no right to. She wondered if they realized that the population was be depleted in a few years when all that was left were the infertile purebloods, cursed by generations of inbreeding.

Still, she saw no sign of these experiments. Hermione considered that a good thing. She wasn't sure she could stomach what they were doing if she actually had to see it herself.

Hermione felt a wind blow over her as she walked in a deserted hallway. Looking around, she realized it was coming from a particular door. Her curiosity piqued, she stopped and turned the knob. It was locked. She frowned as she tried to spell it open. Still, it remained ever closed. She thought back to when Dumbledore had told Harry about a special room, a room that contained a force more wonderful and more terrible than death. She saw the scorch marks from her failed spells and sighed, playing a hand against them. It felt so long ago, that the power in this room had helped Harry from being possessed by Voldemort, like a lifetime ago. It had been his heart, Dumbledore had told him, that had saved him. She hoped the force in this room, whatever it was, whatever it could do, would help her as she brought Harry back.

With one last glance, she trudged forward. She was on a mission. That she had not been seen was a miracle, and she was not going to waste it. It seemed that the hallway was deserted, for she had not seen a single person since she had gotten off the elevator. If it weren't for the screams she could hear, she would have thought they had abandoned this area altogether.

She went into the room with the archway, only taking the cloak off after she put charms on the door to make sure no one could enter. She knew that if she was interrupted during the spell, she would lose her life and Harry would be lost.

Hermione Granger stood in front of the veil, mesmerized. Maybe it was all the death she had seen. Maybe it was what she was doing here. But it was today, as she stood here in this room, in front of the veil, that she finally understood what Harry had been talking about years ago when they had come here in their fifth year. She heard the voices.

It was horrible, a thousand voices screaming. She could hear each one, could hear their sorrow. It broke her heart. It made her that much more resolved to bring Harry back. She had to save him from that.

With a deep breath, she moved forward, taking her bag out of her pocket. It grew to its original size so she could pull out what she needed, a cauldron, a knife, various ingredients and Harry's wand. She had kept it safe all this time, hidden. She had memorized the spell already. She knew what she had to do. She had known for a whole year. She would not fail.

She moved forward and knelt down in front of the archway. She droned out the voices with her mind, and concentrated on what she was doing. Because she couldn't help them, no matter how much she wished she could. This was about Harry, and only him.

She took the knife and sliced her palm, letting her blood flow into the cauldron. She lit a small fire under the cauldron and started mixing in the ingredients. She was careful to make the concoction to perfection. Any mistakes would mean her failure, her death.

When her blood had turned black, she dipped Harry's wand into the cauldron, and drew a ruin on the floor. This was a dark magic, an ancient magic. She stifled her fear, knowing this was what she had to do. This was the only way. Harry was counting on her.

When she was done, she stood and took her wand out. The spell was intricate, the pronunciation exact. "Magicus converterti livium."

A bright light shot forth from her wand and into the veil. Hermione gasped as she felt her own power and energy start to drain. She felt it pulling at something. She felt her whole being tethered and pulled. She cried out, but she refused to end the magic, knowing she had to hang in there, for Harry. She prayed she was strong enough to survive this, but as she felt her energy draining, she knew that, perhaps, she was not. She conceded that it was worth it if it worked, if it brought Harry back. And so she held on, she tried to keep herself together, even as she was brought to her knees at the sheer strength that was being drained from her.

It was in this moment, this final moment, where she was resigning herself to the blackness of death, to the power, that she thought of Draco. She wished she had had a chance to tell him the truth, though he probably would have killed her if he ever found out. Maybe it was better that he thought it was Jean Wyler he had grown to care for. Because she truly doubted he could have ever felt the same for her, for Hermione Granger.

Still, it was Hermione Granger who had fallen for him. It was Hermione Granger who had surrendered to him and to what she felt for him. It was Hermione Granger who would be losing something now with him. And it was Hermione Granger who was dying without ever telling him.

It was as she thought of him, as she thoughts of all the chances she as Hermione Granger wouldn't have, all the moments they'd never experience, that she finally felt the last of her energy leave her. She finally conceded to the darkness.

The connection finally broke, and Hermione Granger began to fall under. It was as her eyes were closing that she saw an indistinguishable figure step out of the archway. That was when everything went black.

* * *

**NEW CHAPTER! DUN DUN DUN THE SPELL WAS DONE! MUAHAHA **

**I know this is shorter than usual, but I didn't want to add anything else to this one. The next one will be nice and long promisee :) I'm sad we're getting closer and closer to the end haha**

**Anyways, let me know what you thought :) New update soon hopefully! Thanks for reading!**

**Bye xx**


	34. Harry, Just Harry

When Hermione woke up, she was laying in a bed she had only seen once. She was exhausted, magically and physically. It was as if a ten story building had fallen on her. It took her a moment to figure out where she was. Grimmauld Place. And she was not alone.

She sat up quickly and winced at the exertion. But she didn't care. "Harry!" she exclaimed, tears pouring down her face. She reached over and hugged the man sitting next to her.

"Easy, Hermione," he said softly. "You need to rest."

"I don't care," she wouldn't let him go, hugging him tighter, despite the pain. She could handle the pain. It was Harry sitting next to her. It had worked. He was back. "The figure! It was you."

"What?"

"I saw something before I passed out," she explained, finally letting go. Her eyes drank him in. He looked the same, his brown hair messy, his glasses slightly crooked on his face, his scar so prominent on his forehead.

"Did you know the spell could have killed you?" He asked, his gaze wavering to an open book at the foot of her bed.

"Well yes, it was a possibility," she said slowly. "But it didn't! It worked! You're here."

"Blimey, Hermione!" He glared at her for a moment. "I wouldn't have let you do it if I knew it could have killed you."

It was like a slap in the face. She had done so much for him, to help him, to bring him back. She had risked her own life. She had sacrificed everything. And she didn't exactly expect him to shower her with gratitude, but she hadn't expected the hostility either. "It would have been worth it, Harry," she said softly, trying not to cry.

"Your life would have been worth it?" he demanded. "Oh right, I forgot, everyone can sacrifice themselves for Harry."

"Yes, we can," she glared at her best friend. "Because you're the only one who can end this. You don't know what it's been like. Muggle-hunting is a sport. People are scared to even come out of their homes, though it doesn't matter. Not even their homes are safe! Most people have left the country."

"Why didn't you?" he asked, all malice gone from his tone. "Why didn't you leave when you could? Why didn't you just forget about me?"

"You know I could never do that," she said, putting her hand on his. "You may be important to the wizarding world because of the prophecy. But you're more important to me because you're you. Because you're my best friend."

"Some best friend," he grumbled.

"What's this about, Harry?" She asked, sensing it went deeper than he was letting on.

It took him more than a few minutes to answer. "When Voldemort killed me, I woke up at Kings' Crossing."

"I don't understand."

"Well it wasn't exactly the station, but it looked like it. And Dumbledore was there," he explained.

"Is this the beyond?" She gasped, unable to believe that she was hearing about life after death. Her mind was reeling.

"No," he shook his head. "It was the part before. I talked to him, and he explained everything, about the horcruxes and Arianna and everything. And then he told me I had a choice. I could come back or I could take the train on."

She was staring at him, her eyes wide. "And you chose the train?"

He nodded with a guilty look on his face. "I just - I was tired, Hermione. I was tired of fighting and of people dying for me. I was tired of losing people I cared about. Ron was dead, but you were alive. I got on the train hoping you would get on with your life and forget about me."

She said nothing because there was nothing for her to say. She could not believe what she was hearing, what Harry was saying.

"I hoped you wouldn't bring me back," he admitted quietly, ashamed. He waited a minute for a response but when none came, he went on. "And after, I was with my parents, Hermione. And Sirius, and Lupin, and Dumbledore, and Fred, and everyone else we've lost. I was with Ron. And I prayed the spell wouldn't work. I wished it didn't."

Before she could stop herself, she swung out and slapped Harry Potter across the face. She didn't care that she was exhausted, that she didn't even have energy to move. She didn't care that he had been dead and that she hadn't seen him in a year. She glared at him, angry tears coming to her eyes.

"You - you self-centered, arrogant, excuse for a wizard prick!" she screamed at him. "I was here! I was here alone. Our friends were being rounded up and executed everyday. The lucky ones left the country with nothing but their lives. Voldemort rules over the wizarding world, and you are the only person who can stop him, and you didn't even care! How dare you! You left me here, to wait for you, to risk my life everyday, and you didn't even care! I cannot believe this. You complete arse!"

He winced, taking in her words remorsefully. Oh she just wanted to kill him! After everything she had done for him! After everything she had sacrificed! She had sold her very soul for him, and he had the nerve to tell her he wished she hadn't! He was supposed to make it all okay, to make her sacrifices mean something. But to hear this now, to hear him, she just wanted to kill him and add coldblooded murderer to the list of reasons she'd spend eternity in Hell.

"I know, Hermione," he said quietly. "And I'm sorry, I am. But can't you look at it from my point of view? My entire life had been hell. I had a target on my head before I could even speak. And every day of my life since entering the wizarding world was this, was fighting him, saving people, letting people sacrifice themselves for me."

"I was there too, Harry," she said coldly. "Ron and I may not have had targets on our back or had the whole wizarding world expecting us to jump out with some unknown magical skills that would save us all, but we were there with you every step of the way. We gave up our lives for you. So don't you dare tell me I should understand you bowing out of your duty when I have been here alone, mind you, for the last year, barely making it through each day."

She refused to feel sorry for him, not after everything she had been through, not after everything she had seen in the last year.

He looked down, ashamed. "I'm sorry."

She sighed, the coldness around her heart warming as she looked at him, so remorseful. It was that same maternal instinct that had always forced her to take care of him before. He was Harry. Sometimes self-centered, sometimes a downright arse, but selfless, dependent Harry. She put her hand on his again, and smiled when he looked up.

Her heart clenched as she remembered what she was hiding from him, what she did not want to tell him, what her imagination Harry always understood, but this Harry, the real Harry would not.

"I have to tell you something," she said quietly.

"Okay."

"You have to promise not to get mad," she said, though she knew it would be futile. He would be furious when he found out, whatever promise he made now.

"Hermione, you risked your life for me," he smiled slightly. "I think I can do that."

"Promise, Harry." She needed to hear him say it.

"You're scaring me, Hermione."

"Please."

"Okay, I promise. I won't get mad," he said.

"While you were gone, I lived in a flat in Knockturn Alley with a disguise," she said quietly. "I didn't go out too often, only for necessities. But one day, when I did, I was almost caught."

"Almost?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I looked like someone else, someone who had fought in the war, and so I was recognized as a fighter on the other side, not as me," she explained.

"Okay," he said, confused.

"Well anyway, I was caught by a powerful Death Eater, one of the top ones, practically the right hand of Voldemort himself." She was stalling, she knew. But she couldn't help it.

"What happened?"

"Well, he recognized me from the battle and he made me an offer, one I couldn't refuse," she said hurriedly.

"What did he want?"

"Me," she said quietly.

"Come again," he said, as if he hadn't heard her. She knew he had, from the way his eyebrows flew up his forehead and angry starting brewing in his eyes.

"I was to become his mistress and he wouldn't kill me."

"You - you sold yourself?" he stammered. But that was quickly replaced with anger, promise long forgotten. "What the fuck, Hermione! Who was this guy! I'm going to kill him. I cannot believe this. Why would you do that?"

"Well, I couldn't leave England, and I needed to stay alive so I could bring you back." She was avoiding his question.

He seemed to realize this too. "You said he was the right hand of Voldemort. Oh Merlin, it was Lucius Malfoy, wasn't it?"

"Close," she whispered.

It took him only a moment to understand. She knew it the moment he did. The anger in his eyes turned downright murderous. If she didn't know better, she would have thought he'd strike her.

"What the fuck, Hermione?" He screamed. "How could you! With Draco Fucking Malfoy! I cannot believe this. You whored yourself out to Draco Malfoy for me? What is wrong with you? This is so fucked up. He's the ferret, Hermione! Blimey, did you go mental when I was gone?"

She gathered all her strength and sat up straight, glaring at her best friend. "You were gone, Harry. I had to survive. It was the only way." He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off. "No, you listen to me, Harry Potter. You promised not to get angry, so you will listen to me while I explain myself."

He looked at her for a long time before nodding once.

"A lot has changed since you died, Harry," she went on. "I'm not that same bookworm bright-eyed girl I was when you left. I've done a lot of things since then, things I wish I could change. I've stolen someone's life, someone's chance at a proper death, someone's honor in that death. I've lived on scrapes for a year. I've watched our friends being caught one after another and I did absolutely nothing. Why? Because I had to bring you back! Because I had to survive for you. Because my whole life has been about you, and will probably be about you until I die. So yes, I 'whored' myself out to Draco Malfoy. I did it because I had to. I did it for you, you ungrateful bastard! And I would do it again. I regret a lot of things this past year, but I do not regret that. I do not regret what I've done with Draco."

He was quiet for a long while before he spoke. "You love him."

"What?" she screeched. "I do not."

"You do," his eyes were wide, his entire demeanor in shock. "You fell in love with Draco Malfoy."

She thought about it, about what she felt. The lines they had crossed, the things they had done, the words they had exchanged. Did she love him? Was it possible to find love in such a position? She wasn't sure about that, but she thought that maybe she did love Draco. It didn't matter though. Whatever his feelings, they were for Jean Wyler, not her. She would never have her love story, not with him, not as herself.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, feeling as though she had to apologize. She had been telling the truth before. Her whole life was about Harry. And she wondered if he'd think her feelings a betrayal. She couldn't bear that.

"Don't apologize, Hermione," he sighed. "I'm sorry I put you in this position. I'm sorry you had to do all this for me."

"You're not angry?" she asked, all anger gone. She knew he was blaming himself now, as he always did. And, as always, it kicked up her instincts to protect him, this time from himself.

"No," he said after a moment. "I - well, I think I understand, somewhat. Not the you're in love with the ferret part, but I can understand how it came to that. Even in the darkness, love seems to always find a way, doesn't it? I mean, look at Snape. He loved my mum. He gave up everything for her, even when she was with my dad and when she died. He was a Death Eater. He was supposed to hate her very being, and yet, he loved her. And in the end, that's what this is all about, isn't it? How love still prevails? How it has to prevail?"

"You know, when I was on my own, I kept thinking when you came back, you would make it all better," she said quietly. "That you would forgive my sacrifices and that I wouldn't be doomed to an eternity in Hell for all I've done. Because you would be my redemption."

"And now?" He winced. He was probably thinking of everything she had had to do, for him. She knew he was thinking of everyone who had sacrificed so much for him.

"And now, I think the only way I will be able to repent is by killing Voldemort," she said quietly. "To be able to give all those other people, everyone in the world here and now and forever to come a chance at a normal life, at love, at happiness."

"So they don't have to go through the shite we did?" He smirked at her.

She couldn't help but laugh. It was a cruel hand they had all been dealt, having been part of this war that they were born into. But they would make sure no one after them had to suffer as they did. She would make sure that, even if she couldn't have her happy ending with Draco, someone else would have theirs. "I've really missed you, Harry."

"I've missed you too," he smiled at her. And just like that, she knew they would be okay. Things had broken between them, his words and her sacrifices standing between them. But they would get better. They were best friends. And they would always be best friends. One day, he would be her Harry again.

* * *

**NEW UPDATE! Haha I feel like I owed you guys after the last break! (even though I should really be updating my other fic instead. Sorry Captain Swan =/) ANYWAYS, HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS EVEN WITH THE LACK OF DRAMIONE IN IT! I felt like Harry deserved his own chapter, and this reunion was long coming! I've had this part planned out since I started this fic, I hope I did it justice :)**

**So let me know what you thought!**


	35. Was It Ever Easy

"And what did Snape often take points from you for?" Blaise continued on with the interrogation he had been at for the better part of two hours.

The three sat in Hermione's little flat in Knockturn Alley where Hermione had revealed her whole plan to Blaise. It was still a risk, she knew. She wasn't a hundred percent sure they could trust Blaise. But something in her gut told her that he would not betray them, that what he wanted from them was more important than what he had now, that telling him would just be that much more of an incentive. Because now he would see just how they would win this, and how he would get his freedom.

It seemed, however, that Blaise was not quite ready to grab that olive branch just yet. At least, until he was sure that it was indeed Harry Potter sitting in front of him. She couldn't blame him. She had brought him back from the dead and that did not happen every day. And the spell that she had used was not one many people knew about. Even she had learned of it in passing, a mere glance she had remembered later.

"Pretty much breathing, really," Harry answered him, rolling his eyes at the memory. Or maybe it was the interrogation he was growing irritable about. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, let me see your patronus," Blaise said after a moment.

It was a smart move. Even if one used polyjuice potion or a spell to become someone else, their signature patronus would not change. Harry sighed and pulled out his wand. "Expecto patronum!"

She was sure he was still disoriented from being brought back from the dead but even she had to admit that was pathetic. Not only did his stag not appear, but the wisp of light was so minimal she worried for a moment that his magic was damaged. But that shouldn't have happened. She had made sure when she researched the spell. She thought maybe it was that he no longer had a happy memory strong enough.

"Harry, do you remember the day we became friends? When I was crying about something Ron said, and you two came and found me? And you defeated the troll?" She asked him earnestly, trying to find a happy thought for him to focus on.

"The day I doomed you both to sacrifice everything for me?" he responded glumly.

She sighed. Clearly they were remembering the day differently. For her, that was the day her life began, the first time she actually had friends, the first time she felt like she belonged somewhere. It hurt her to know how he viewed it. "What about when we freed Sirius? When you found out the truth and knew you had a part of your parents back?"

"And then I watched him die, Hermione," he reminded her.

"What about when you beat the dragon in the Triwizard Tournament? Or saw the Quidditch World Cup? Or flew the firebolt for the first time? Or even when you found out you were a wizard?" She was determined to find his happy memory. It was no longer about proving to Blaise he was really Harry. She needed to, because Harry did not seem whole to her. He seemed broken. And she needed to fix him. She needed to know he was still Harry, her Harry.

But he just shook his head, the memories clearly weighing down on him.

"Damn, Potter," Blaise said. "I never knew you to be so glum."

"You never knew me at all," Harry snapped. At least his hot-headedness was still there.

"What about Ginny, Harry?" Hermione said quickly, before Blaise could respond.

"What about her?" He tensed. They still did not know what happened to her. Last Hermione knew was when Ginny had come to her before she switched her identity and begged her to leave the country with her, just moments after Harry had left her. Of course, Draco had told her she had bought Ginny's necklace at a market for her, though he did not know what that necklace meant. But then, neither did Hermione.

"You love her," she reminded him. "She made you happy before. Isn't there any moment with her that makes you happy now?"

"No," he said simply. She knew he was not trying to be cruel. But bringing him back had changed him. And death had too. It wasn't the memories that weren't making him happy. It was what had happened to these people, what these people had done for him, sacrificed for him.

"Then think of Ron!" She exclaimed desperately. "Think of me. Think of everything we've been through."

"Hell?"

"No! Friendship!" she cried in frustration. She understood what he was going through, she really did. But he needed to snap out of it, especially now, especially when she needed him, when they all did. "Remember all the adventures we had. And how we stuck by you when the whole world thought you were mental. When we saved the day over and over again because we were together, because we had each other. Because Ron came back. Do you remember that, Harry? I was so so angry at him for so long. But not you. Because he came back. He always did. Because we've all had our differences. Where we just wanted to kill each other. But we didn't. Because we were best friends. Because we ARE best friends."

He just stared at her. She knew she was getting through to him. She just had to push a little harder.

"Ron is dead, Harry. He's dead because of Voldemort. But you can avenge him," she said, her voice quiet now. "You and I are going to avenge our fallen best friend. We're going to end this. We're going to make this right. We're going to save the world. And we're going to do it together. Because that's what we always do."

"We were together that day, Hermione," his tone was just as low. "You, me, and Ron. We were together that day. And we failed."

"No we didn't," she corrected him. "Because you're sitting here, and so am I, Harry. Ron might not be here physically, but we're still the Golden Trio. We always will be."

She let him think about that as she imagined Ron sitting there with them. Yes, he was dead, but he was not gone, not while they were alive, not while they kept him alive. She imagined him sitting there, smiling at her. She had loved him once, and she thought maybe she always would. But she had accepted he wasn't coming back. And somehow, she had moved on.

She thought of Draco, and of what Harry had said. She imagined Ron nodding at her as she realized the truth. She loved Draco. She truly did. And right then, she knew what she had to do. She was going to tell him who she was. Sure, he'd probably try to kill her, and the world would find out she was back. But she didn't care anymore. Harry was back. It didn't matter if they knew she was alive, so long as they didn't find out about him yet. But the main thing was that she wanted Draco to know, to know who she was, to know how she felt, to know it was HER eyes that saved Jean, that he had recognized Hermione Granger. She wanted him to know, and she wanted to give him a choice. She had just realized she loved him enough to give him that choice.

Hermione was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard Harry cast, "Expecto Patronum!" And a beautiful stag pranced around her flat.

"Now that," Blaise said, reminding them of his presence. "That, I never thought I'd be so happy to see."

* * *

Jean Wyler Floo'ed directly into Draco's study. This would be the last time Hermione would ever wear this face again. Tonight, Jean Wyler would be dead, forever. Marie Shardae would finally get the honorable death she had rightfully earned. Hermione Granger would be reborn again. And tonight, Draco Malfoy would make a choice.

"Jean?" he greeted her warmly, standing from his desk and coming to her. He took her hand and pulled her to him, kissing her. She stood still as his arms wrapped around her and he tried to deepen the kiss. But she wouldn't let him. She knew she probably should, that this would be the last kiss they would ever share. But she couldn't. Not now, not with what she was about to do.

He pulled away and looked at her. "What's wrong?"

"What - what do I mean to you?" She asked quietly.

A small smirk came to his lips. He pecked her lips once. "Is that what this is about? I thought I told you not to ask me questions you know the answer to already."

"I need to hear it." She was practically pleading.

He looked at her for a long time, as if trying to understand what this is about. "I broke my engagement for you, an engagement the Dark Lord set up. I set your father free even though if he is ever caught, I will be killed. I - care for you."

She nodded slowly, trying to hold onto that, especially since she knew it was about to change.

"What is this about?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. His tone was wary now.

"I have to tell you something," she said slowly, forcing herself to look him in the eyes. She was a Gryffindor, she reminded herself. She could do this. She had to.

"What?" He asked, the wariness growing in his tone and gaze.

"I need you to listen to everything I say before you react," she said. "And I need you to remember what you just said, that you care about me."

"What is it?" He asked impatiently.

"Swear it," she knew this hadn't really worked with Harry but she thought maybe it would work with Draco.

"I swear," he said after staring at her for a long time. "What happened, Jean?"

"That is not my name," she said quietly.

"I know it's Marie," he rolled his eyes. "I find that as I knew you so intimately as Jean, I should not use any other name."

"It's not," she said.

"Not what?" He asked.

"My name is not Marie," she told him.

"Yes it is," he said in confusion. She saw him growing irritable. "Your father told us the truth."

"That man is not my father," she continued. "He's not my stepfather. I'd never seen him before that day."

He drew his wand at her, comprehension coming across his face. But he did not know yet, he did not know the depth of her secret. "Who are you?" he demanded.

She did not move nor cower from his wand. "Why did you save me that day? Why did you offer me what you did?"

"What?" he demanded.

"When you saw me first," she continued. "Why didn't you kill me or turn me in?"

"I wanted a mistress," he said coldly.

She tried not to let that hurt her. Because she knew the truth. "It was my eyes," she told him. "I reminded you of someone."

"So?" he rolled his eyes. "That does not tell me who you are. Now tell me before I kill you."

"You promised to listen," she reminded him quietly.

"I am listening. I have not killed you yet, as you can no doubt see. Now tell me."

"Before I do, you should now that what I feel for you has nothing to do with a name," she said. "It's not what I'm called, but who I am that loves you."

He was taken back for a moment, those words rendering him speechless. They had never discussed more, though they both knew something had changed between them. He had broken it off with Astoria for her. He had let her father go. He had shown her so often in the smallest of ways, so subtle that someone less intelligent than her probably would not have seen. And now, it was her turn. She would show him how much she cared about him. It was painful to know that when she did, when she let him in to that level, there would be no going back. They would never have a happy ending. He would not be her knight in shining armor. They would never be together again. In fact, he would probably try to kill her. But this was her last show of affection, her most important one. She was letting him in.

"Think, Draco," she said quietly. "You know my eyes. You remember them. You saved me because of them, because of who they remind you of. You saw them everyday before, before any of this happened. You saw them at Hogwarts. You hated them. You hated me."

It took him several moments. She could see the wheels turning in his head. She waited, because she knew he would figure it out. He would understand. He would know. And then he would attack.

It took him only a breath longer than she thought it would. She saw it in his eyes the moment it clicked in his mind.

"Granger!"

A sad smile came across her face as the spell she had cast began to wear off. That had been the key, him saying her name. Because she loved him, because she knew him, she knew he would call her by her surname. And he would free her. Unfortunately, that also meant it was Hermione Granger that stood in his study, who he had his wand pointed at.

"Malfoy." And Hermione Granger, unlike Jean Wyler, was definitely his enemy.

* * *

**NEW UPDATE! I know I promised this a week ago and to be honest I've had it written! I just haven't had any time to come on and post it! i hope you like it though :)**

**DUN DUN DUN MALFOY** **FINALLY KNOWS! What's going to happen next? Draco's reaction coming soon! That chapter is almost written too! Muahaha! What did you guys think about how he found out?**

**As always, let me know what** **you thought of the chapter :)**


	36. Say My Name

For a long time, they both stood there, his wand pointed at her face, her wand stowed away in her pocket. She would give me a chance. She would give him a choice. And then she would leave. She would fight her way out if she had to, no matter her feelings. Because Harry was back at her flat, waiting for her. Because what they had to do was more important than what she felt for the man debating with himself on whether he should kill her or not.

"How?" he asked, his voice low, his face revealing nothing. His eyes were roaming over her face, her body, her very soul, trying to take it in, trying to understand.

"I stole that face," she told him. "The day of the battle, when Harry died, I stole that face and left. And I hid, for a year. I stayed hidden with that face."

"And why reveal yourself now?" he spat. "Why reveal yourself to me? Especially when you know I'd kill you."

"Because I wanted you to know," she said quietly. "Because the lie became too much, and I needed you to know. And because - things are about to happen. I cannot hide anymore. And before it happens, I needed to tell you the truth."

"What's going to happen?" he demanded, ever the soldier.

"Things," she said vaguely.

"If you want to live, Granger," he said her name with contempt, "you should start talking about those things, and fast."

"I cannot tell you," she sighed.

"And you thought what? That you'd tell me and you'd walk out of here and do whatever it is you're planning?" he snapped at her. "You must have lost your mind this past year if you think that I'd allow that, Granger."

"I don't know if you'll allow it," she said simply. "But you should know, I have every intention of walking out here alive."

"You think you can beat me?" he laughed coldly. "You don't know the things I've done, Granger."

"I know perfectly well, Malfoy," she snapped at him. "You saved me. You comforted me when I killed a man. You cared for me. You broke up with Astoria for me."

He pressed the wand to her throat, anger growing on his face. "For Jean, not you."

"We're one and the same," she said sadly as the realization came over her. She had thought of herself as two different people, Hermione Granger and Jean Wyler. But they were both her, she realized now. They were both equally a part of her. Jean was every part of her that she couldn't afford to be as Hermione. She was quiet and afraid, timid and conserved. She was everything Hermione couldn't be as Harry's best friend. But it was still her. "You said you cared for me, as Jean. But I am Jean."

He jabbed his wand against her throat. "You think you're quite clever, don't you, Granger?"

"And I know everything you've done," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I know exactly what you're capable of. I've seen the cruelty. I've seen the choices you've made. But I love you anyway."

"Shut up," he snapped.

"I love you," she stepped closer to him, the wand still pressed against her. She knew he could finish her now. But something told her he wouldn't. "I came to tell you the truth because I love you. What started as a means to survival turned into this, Draco. It turned into love."

"Don't call me that," he said through gritted teeth.

"And somehow, we ended up here," she said, taking another step towards him. "Somehow, against all odds, here we are. The lion who fell in love with the snake. I know you cared for Jean. But I think you care for me too. I think you cared for her because she reminded you of me. And I don't think you're going to kill me now, Draco. Because I love you, and even with what I'm telling you now, even with the truth spread out in front of us, I think maybe you love me too."

He stared at her for a long time. She waited quietly, counting the breaths until he moved. It was exactly 342 breaths later that he grabbed her by the arms, his wand falling between them, and pulled her to him, his lips claiming hers.

It was not a gentle kiss. It was all lips and tongue and teeth. It was frustration and anger. It was denial and acceptance. It was a boy who had grown up on hatred, and a man who had accepted his fate. It was a girl who thought she knew everything and a woman who knew there was so much she did not. It was desperation.

He turned her around in his arms, her back pressed against him. His hands were gripping her waist, bruising and angry. His lips were on her neck, biting and rough. She gasped as his tongue tasted her skin, putting her head back on his shoulder, tilting it to give him more access. One hand gripped her tighter while the other moved over her body, squeezing her breasts, feeling her over her clothes.

His breath was hard against her skin. "This isn't love."

"Okay." She reached behind her and ran her hand over his hardening length.

He growled against her skin, his hands gripping her tighter for a moment. His roaming hand was paying adamant attention to her breasts, squeezing and kneading through her clothes. His other hand moved to her core, running his fingers over her. She gasped when she felt him. He took the hem of her dress and pulled it up slowly, his tongue doing marvelous things to her neck. It was amazing, this fire he was starting in her. Her core was aching for friction, for him, for what only he could give.

They were moving before she knew it, and he pressed her against his desk. Barely moving away from her, he took her dress off, throwing it away from them. With his knee, he pushed her thighs apart and bent her over, his hands and lips still doing wondrous things to her. "Draco," she gasped when he ground his hips into her back.

He bit her shoulder roughly. "Shut up, Granger," he said through gritted teeth.

Placing a rough kiss on her back before continuing down. He growled at what he found between her thighs. His every touch was an inferno, and she was more than ready for him. Apparently, he did not think so. He swiped his tongue along her slit making her call out in ecstasy. She gripped the desk, trying not to fall over. His fingers were grabbing her arse, holding her open for him. She was sure she would have bruises later. But she didn't care. His tongue was amazing. He felt amazing.

She bit her lip when he pushed his tongue into her, licking her through. "Fuck," she moaned. Again and again he pushed his tongue into her, tasting her, licking her. He was by no means gentle. This was for him. But she loved it. She felt herself coming closer and closer to the edge. It was when he reached over and a well placed slap landed on her clit that she came into his mouth, crying out.

He didn't let her come down though. Before she knew it, he was back up against her, and his cock was aligned with her opening. With one hard thrust, he pushed himself all the way in. She cried out, arching her back. He felt so good inside of her. She could feel every inch of him. It was glorious.

"Malfoy," she moaned, knowing it was what he wanted to hear. He didn't want to hear his first name, not from her lips, not yet. And she was okay with that because now it was Draco and Hermione. Now it was her in the flesh. Now he was fucking her, not Jean Wyler.

He pulled out slowly once and thrust back in, letting her adjust to the size, to the position. And then he started. His thrusts were hard and sure, hitting that sweet spot inside of her each time. If the first thrust had been for her, these were all for him. Her hands clenched into fists as he pushed her head down against the table with no hand and gripped her hip with the other. Each thrust was harder, faster.

She was on fire. Every nerve in her body was ignited and each thrust licked the flames coursing through her. She was getting close again. He brought her closer and closer to ecstasy once more. Her clit brushed against the table with each thrust, only adding to the friction.

She came hard around him, trying to milk him. She cried out loudly, her orgasm stronger than before. But he was not done. He rode out that dark wave, refusing to follow her into ecstasy. Instead, he stilled within her, growling at the feeling of her constricting around him. When she came down from her high, he took her by the hair, pulled her up against him, and resumed his brutal thrusts.

"Hermione," he groaned into her ear before he took the skin below her ear into his mouth, sucking and biting. She moaned as she put her head back on his shoulder, letting him have his way with her. This was retribution, for her lies, for her deceit, for her true identity. This was her, and he was entitled to her any which way he wanted.

His thrusts began to grow sloppy, his breath grew more ragged. He was close, so close now. She reached up around his head, and pulled him to her lips. The kiss was just as brutal as his treatment of her battered pussy. He was claiming her. He was making her pay.

When he came, she swallowed his long groan. He thrust a few more times before he stilled, his lips still moving roughly against hers, his tongue tasting her. He let go of her hair and wrapped his arm around her waist as he pulled out of her, turning her over to face him.

They stood like that for a few moments before suddenly he tensed. He pulled away from her angrily, as if he had been slapped into his senses. "Leave," he said, pulling his trousers up.

"Draco," she stepped towards him.

He held his hand up. "Leave, Granger," he said. "Before I change my mind."

She stood there for a moment, just staring at him. She tried to read him, tried to gauge his emotions. But his face was suddenly blank again, his gaze distant. There would be nothing else said.

She just nodded and got her dress, putting it on quickly. She walked to the fireplace but stopped, looking back at him. He was still silent, staring at her as if he were looking at a ghost. "I know you don't believe me, but this was never about hurting you," she said quietly. "I love you, Draco."

With that, she stepped into the fireplace, leaving him. And all she could think about, as she went back to Harry, as she went farther away from him, was how he had said her name.

* * *

**NEW UPDATE! I told you it was almost written :) it's a little short, I know, but I did that for a reason! You will see why in the next chapter :) so he finally knows and they were together as Draco and Hermione! It was a long time coming lol **

**What did you guys think? Let me know!**


	37. Old Friends and New Allies

"Are you sure this is where he said it was?" Hermione asked, looking around. She saw nothing but fields.

They had come to the countryside to find the resistance group. The time to take Voldemort down once and for all was upon them. And they were going to need help. Blaise had told them where he thought their encampment was but so far, there was nothing here.

"Yes," Harry said. "We went over it when you went to see Malfoy. He said they got the location from your father. I wanted to ask you about that actually, because I know your parents are in Australia and they're Muggles. They wouldn't be part of the resistance even if they were in England."

"The man he called my father was the stepfather of the face I stole," she admitted quietly. She had thought Harry would be her redemption for all the things she had done to bring him back. In a way, he was. She knew what she did was necessary, that the evils that would plague her soul had had to be done. That helped her a bit. Because even now she believed Harry was their only hope. He was the only one who could stop Voldemort and make things right again in the world. But that didn't change what she had done, what she had endured. She tried to console herself that a few lives, one face, one girl's stolen death were just a means to an end. But she knew the truth. She knew it wasn't enough to know that she had had to do the things she had done.

"I will never forgive myself for making you go through that," he said quietly, as if reading her thoughts.

She smiled at her best friend. "I would do it all again, Harry. Don't forget, it was my choice. It was my hand that did these things."

"And it was my strings that pulled you," he said quietly.

She sighed, knowing there was nothing she could say. He would carry this with him forever, just as she would. Then she thought of something. "Harry, if they got the location from Mr. Shardae, then they've known about the location of the resistance this whole time. What if they attacked already?"

"They didn't," he assured her. "Blaise said that no one but he and Malfoy knew what they found. Malfoy didn't want to tell anyone. That he even told Zabini was a surprise. That was after he threatened his life if he told of course."

"Why didn't he want to tell?" She asked.

"He told Zabini it was because he thought the man would go back and Voldemort would find out Draco let him go. But Zabini reckons it was because he knew it would upset you if something happened to the man he thought was your father. It sounds like he loves you, Hermione. I never would have imagined."

"He cares for Jean Wyler," she said quietly. Even as she said it, she wasn't sure. Sure, she would have gotten out of his study one way or another, but he had let her go. He had let her go after fucking her as Hermione Granger, after saying her name. That had to mean something, didn't it?

Suddenly, Harry stopped. "We're being watched."

She looked around slowly, and saw nothing. There was only empty fields around them. "Are you sure?"

"He's sure," another voice answered her. They drew their wands but it didn't matter. There were 8 wizards surrounding then, each with their wand pointed right at them.

Hermione wanted to cry when she saw who the voice belonged to. "George?" She cried. She had thought he had left with his parents after the battle. There was nothing for the Weasleys in England. Most of their children were dead. Everyone they cared about was too. There had been no choice but to leave and never look back. "I thought you were in Romania!"

"Not another word, Death Eater," their ginger friend said coldly. And then she understood. They would have to prove they were who they said they were. Because Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were dead. And one of theirs had been caught. They would think this was a trap, an ambush. "This is low, even for you lot."

"What?" Harry said, confused. "George, it's us. Hermione and Harry. You know us."

"Harry, we're both supposed to be dead, remember?" She said quietly. "They don't know."

"Oh yeah, great plan this," Harry grumbled. He faced George. "I can prove it's us. I gave you your start up gold for your shop."

George faltered for a moment. But then his face became hard again. "That doesn't prove anything."

"Show them your patronus, Harry," she said quietly.

"Don't even think about it," another wizard jabbed his wand at them. It took her a moment to see the face of Anthony Goldstein. He had been so attractive back at Hogwarts. Now his face had a large gash along the side, his nose had been broken one too many times, and half his ear was gone. She guessed they had all paid a price in this war. "We're not going to let you trick us, you Death Eating filth. Keep your wands where we can see them."

"Please," Hermione begged. "Let him just show you. George, you know a patronus can't be replicated no matter the enchantment. We can prove it's us!"

"Weasley," another unfamiliar face started.

"Sod off," George said, deliberating. "If they are telling the truth, it's Hermione Granger. She could have pulled it off."

"We can't risk it," Goldstein said.

"For Harry Potter, the really Harry Potter, we can," George said. "Show us."

"Expecto Patronum!" He shouted, and his stag pranced around the group of hostile wizards surrounding them.

George fell to his feet, tears running down his face now. The others stood in shock. "How?" George demanded. "We saw your body! We know you were killed."

"I was," Harry said. "But she brought me back. You're right. She's the only one who could have pulled it off." He have a wry smirk.

"We shouldn't discuss this here," Anthony said, now a true believer. "Let's get them to the camp."

* * *

They were taken to an encampment. As they walked, every face turned to watch them. Hermione was taken back by how many of them were truly there. And they all fought in Harry's name. Her heart never sang so loud. She clutched Harry's hand, smiling at him, reminding him what they were fighting for. This, these people, faith, love. It was all here.

"How is it possible?" George asked them as they walked through the tents. "No spell can bring back the dead."

"None anyone but Hermione could pull off anyway," Harry smiled at her.

"But you were dead too," he said. "Dad saw your body. He told us we had to flee because you were all dead."

"It's a long story," she said. She didn't want to tell everyone what she had done, not with so many ears listening.

"You'll have to tell me sometime," George said, a smile of understanding. "We've all done things we never would have before these dark days."

No one had ever said it better than that. She smiled at him.

They entered a tent, and both Hermione and Harry froze in shock and utter joy. Standing before them, with her back turned to them was none other than Ginny Weasley. There was no mistaking it. They would have known the girl anywhere.

"Ginny," Hermione ran forward, throwing her arms around her best friend the moment she turned around.

Ginny tensed in her arms. "Hermione? Harry? What is going on?"

"It's them," George said as wands were drawn throughout the tent. "We checked."

"You're sure?" the red head asked intently. It seemed Ginny was higher up in the resistance than any of them would have guessed. Though Hermione shouldn't have been surprised. Ginny had always been quite the clever, powerful witch.

George nodded. Ginny gasped and hugged Hermione back finally. "I can't believe this. I thought you were dead!"

"We were," Harry explained, his eyes never leaving Ginny's face. His expression mirrored Hermione's and then some. Here was the girl he loved, in the flesh and whole. And just as awkward as ever, he had no idea what I do now. "Me more literally than her."

"What did you do?" Ginny asked her.

"I used a spell I saw in the library," she explained. "I called him from the veil."

"Can we do it again?" her face was reeling with the possibilities.

"I'm afraid not," Hermione said sadly. "We casted a spell before he died. That was the only way."

Ginny simply nodded once. "Well you're both here now, that's what matters."

"What are we going to do now?" Goldstein asked. He was asking Ginny. It seemed she was even higher than Hermione thought. It seemed Ginny had somehow become the leader of this resistance. All eyes were trained on the red head, awaiting orders. She was their general. Hermione exchanged a look with Harry, neither knowing how to process this. Ginny had been powerful, but they had never guessed her this ambitious, not strategic. It seemed a lot had changed in a year.

"Now," Ginny said with a smirk. "Now, we kill Voldemort once and for all."

* * *

They had been placed in the same tent. Space was right in the encampment with more and more recruits coming every day. It seemed the resistance had been busier than she had thought. They were growing stronger and stronger each day and Hermione was awed by Ginny's leadership. George had told them they were lucky to get a tent even to themselves. But being Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had its perks, especially here, especially when they were needed so.

It gave them a chance to speak in private. George had joined them, reminiscing on old memories for a short while. Ginny would join them later it seemed, once she had handled some last minute business.

"How did Ginny become the fearless leader?" Harry asked quietly. He didn't seem too thrilled about the idea, though Hermione couldn't blame him. However powerful Ginny was, she was still Ginny. Sweet, small red head with a fire that burned a thousand suns.

"She's grown a lot," George said, sighing. "I don't like my little sister so deep in this, but then, there's no choice, is there? It's this or death. And I'd prefer to keep what's left of my family alive. I'd prefer her to go to Romania with mum and dad actually, but you know her. When she sets her mind to something, there's no changing it."

"How long have you been here?" Hermione asked, still surprised he had been here and she had never known, had never heard even a whisper of it.

"I was in Romania for about a week before I came back," George explained. "Mum cried about it, but dad was proud. Something had to be done, and there was nothing left. What else was I to do? I would have gone mental in Romania, without Fred or Ron or you lot. I had to do something, and so I came back. Joined up with Goldstein shortly after, and we found this group. Ginny came a little while after. Mum wrote to me, said Ginny ran away and I was to send her back right away. But Ginny wouldn't have that, and so mum had no choice. Enough about me, though, what about you two? I know you were dead, Harry. I saw your body. How is this possible, really?"

"It was a spell," Hermione said, explaining it all to their old friend. Now, they were alone, and it was George. So she told him everything, well almost everything. She left out Draco, not only because she knew he'd disapprove but also because she couldn't speak about him, not when the wounds were still so fresh. She had barely even told Harry what had happened when she went to tell him the truth, and she never would. She would carry it with her, wondering what it had meant. She would carry it in her heart with her love until it ate away at her. But she had no choice. This was her burden to bare, a burden the others would see as betrayal. Whatever her promises to Blaise, whatever he had done for her, he was still the enemy. And she was sure that while Harry understood, the others would not.

"Blimey, Hermione," George said, staring at her in awe. "I knew you were brilliant but this is beyond that, even for you. One question though. Why didn't you try to come find the resistance? We could have helped."

"I couldn't risk it," she admitted quietly. "No one could know I was alive. It was too dangerous. If they found out, they would have hunted me, and all would have been lost."

He nodded, understanding that. "Well, it's bloody brilliant to see you both."

"It's great to see you too," Harry said. "And Ginny. We had assumed the worst."

"And for most people, you would have been right to," George smirked slightly. "But you should have known not to underestimate us Weasleys. We're a prolific resilient bunch."

"How are your parents doing in Romania?" Hermione asked. She had missed the old couple dearly. They had become like a second family to her, and she regretted each day that they had to think she was dead on top of everyone else, that all hope was lost.

"They're still grieving, but they're alive, and that's what counts I suppose," he shrugged. "I can't wait to tell them you're alive! Mum will be crying years of joy."

"No," Ginny joined them, hearing this last part. "We can't tell them yet. It's too risky. If the owl is intercepted, we'll lose out element of surprise and everything will be ruined."

"Hi Ginny," Hermione smiled at her old friend. The red head returned the smile though it did not reach her eyes. They year had been just as hard in Ginny as the rest of them, and up close now, Hermione could see it in the young girl's face. She had the eyes of a woman weary of the world, the resolve in her expression of a woman grown on hardships. She was not the same Ginny they had known, Hermione saw now. She was a leader now.

George nodded in understanding. "Is that the plan then? Element of surprise?"

"The essential part of it, yeah," Ginny explained. "They don't know about Harry yet, and we're going to keep it that way until the last moment possible. Then, we'll finish this once and for all."

Hermione wasn't sure why, but she felt an unease at those words. Maybe it was the tone Ginny know used. Maybe it was the way the finality of it was dawning on her. Maybe it was the end of a year she had spent alone in hell. Maybe it was the countless lives that would be saved, now and in the future. But she was sure, more than any of those, she knew it was maybe because Draco was still on that side. And hearing her old friend speak of the end just reminded her that there was a very good chance not both of then would walk away from this alive. She didn't know what his saying her name meant. She didn't know what his letting her go meant. But she knew that she wanted to find out. She needed to, before the end. Because, maybe, she thought, just maybe she could save him too.

* * *

**NEW UPDATE! Hope you guys enjoyed it! I feel like this was a bit filler but it had to be done to move the story along, sorrrry! BUT GINNY AND GEORE ARE ALIVEWOOT WOOT! What did you guys think? Let me know :)**

**PS! The next chapter will be in Draco's point of view (hint hint) muahahaha ;) I'm writing that chapter now. Should be up in about a week? Maybe sooner if I can finish it! **


	38. The Calm Before The Storm

There was an arm around her waist. That was the first thought Hermione had when she woke up. There was an arm around her waist. And at first, she thought it was Draco's. She forgot that Harry was back, or that Draco knew the truth now, or that they were in the rebel camp. For a split second, she thought it was before, when she would wake up like this often, with an arm around her waist, Draco's arm.

It took her a moment to realize it was Harry's, that they had rolled in their sleep, and that it was her best friend sleeping next to her, not her lover. She couldn't blame him, of course. She knew she couldn't. They were sleeping. And she was sure Harry needed some connection postmortem. But for a split second, she hated him for that, for giving her that fleeting moment of hope, of fantasy. And for crushing that hope when she realized it was not Draco. She knew it wasn't his fault, and she would never tell him of her treacherous thoughts, but there they were, spelled out black and white for her. That life was over for her now. She would never wake up with Draco's arm around her again.

Harry bristled awake when he felt her move. He looked around groggy at first before he too remembered where they were. "Morning," he said, yawning loudly.

She just smiled at him and got up, walking over to the little sink in their magical tent. She washed her face and brushed her teeth. It was weird for her, seeing herself in the mirror again. It had only been a year , but it had been a different face looking back at her. She was glad she was back. She felt like herself again.

"Hermione, we need to talk," Harry said, sitting up in the bed.

"Okay," she turned to face him. She was pretty sure she knew what he wanted to talk about. She was sure the same thought had been on her mind.

"Are we sure about this?" he asked. "I mean, I know they have a lot of people here, but we had more before, and we lost. Do you really think they can end this?"

"No, Harry," she went and sat next to him. "I think we are going to lose more than half the people out there. I think we're about to fight with a lot of people with no where else to go. But I think you can end this. And I think all those people, all those refugees, I think they will be glad to fight to the last one of them, because there is no other choice. You've been dead, but the rest of us have seen the world under Voldemort, and I think they will give their lives to change it. I think they will give their lives so that you can change it."

He sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "But Ginny as their leader?" he said softly. "I mean, it's Ginny."

"I know," she conceded. "But we've all grown a lot in this past year. We don't know that girl anymore. We don't know any of those people anymore. But I hope to God that we have the chance to know them again."

He groaned and fell back in the bed. "I thought we were done with this," he said in frustration. "I thought we were done with losing people and wondering which of our friends we would see again."

"I wish we were," she said sadly. "But, until this is over, until Voldemort is dead, I don't think we'll be able to be done with it."

"Well said," George walked into the tent. "Sorry for interrupting. Well I'm not, but mum would kill me if I weren't polite."

She rolled her eyes at him. "It's nice to know you only have a polite side because you fear facing your own mother, George."

"We all have our qualms," he shrugged with a smirk. "Anyway, if you two are done being all woe is me, I think you should follow me."

There was only a slight change in his tone, but it was enough to worry her. "What happened?"

"We've had another visitor," he said vaguely. "Come on, you'll want to see for yourself."

They exchanged a look and followed him out quickly. They were so anxious about who it could be that they almost didn't notice the stares they got as they walked. Almost.

She moved closer to Harry and whispered, "I wish they'd find something better to gawk at. Like maybe new spells they can use to stay alive."

"It's not everyday people come back from the dead, let alone the answer to all their prayers," George said. "Cut 'em some slack, you two are the first sign of hope they've had in a year."

She said nothing after that as they followed him to Ginny's tent. She hadn't the faintest who it could be, unless another of their friends had mysteriously risen from the dead after all this time. But somehow, she thought that unlikely.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but she would have never guessed who it actually was.

Sitting tied to a chair, his face bloody and his eye swollen was a wizard she had come to know very well, one she shouldn't have been surprised to see really.

"Granger, finally," Blaise Zabini said as he spit blood out. "Can you please tell them I'm one of the good guys now so they stop messing up my highly attractive and expensively insured face?"

* * *

"What the hell are you doing here, Blaise?" Hermione asked as she pressed a cold wet cloth to his face. It was badly bruised, and she knew she could fix him up with a few simple charms right as day, but he had refused. Let them know I where their revenge with honor, he had said.

"And how did you find us?" Harry asked.

"And more importantly, can you tell me where you insured your face?" George asked with a serious face. "I seriously need to get that. A face like this, it would be a shame for the ladies if something happened?"

She rolled her eyes at him, though she was glad to know he had not changed as much as she thought. He had been the first to wholeheartedly accept Hermione and Harry's story about Blaise's true allegiance. Just like a Weasley.

But not every Weasley felt the same way. Ginny had yet to lower her wand or her gaze. "Yes, Zabini," she said coldly. She had long since dismissed everyone but a few from the tent, but her defenses were still clearly up. "Tell us how you found us."

"Same way Granger and Potter did," he shrugged. "I had a general idea of where to look and then it was just acknowledging my deference from the Dark Lord and letting you lot find me, tie me up, and beat the bloody crap out of me until Granger showed up. Which reminds me, you had to sleep in today, didn't you, Granger? Of all the days, today had to be the day to get rid of those dark spots below your eyes."

"Well if you had told me you were coming," she snapped at him.

He just smirked. "Ah, there's the Gryffindor spirit I've missed all year."

She hitched her breath as her eyes widened, sharing a glance with Harry. Before they had come here, they had decided they would leave out what she had been doing for the past year until absolutely necessary. They agreed it would just cause trouble and questions of her loyalty if it was found out. Of course, that was before they knew George and Ginny were part of the rebels. Now, it was more a chance to avoid the looks she knew her old friends would give her. Not that she was ashamed that she loved Draco, because she wasn't. But she knew they wouldn't understand. And they were at such a precarious time as it was. She didn't want to do anything to ruin their chances of victory.

"You've seen each other?" Ginny caught on first.

"You didn't tell them?" Blaise raised an eyebrow at her.

She just shook her head slightly. "I was going to, but I didn't get a chance yet."

"Tell us what?" George said warily, his gaze hard on her.

"Um..." She started.

"Hermione was pretending to date Zabini for a while to get information," Harry cut her off.

"You expect us to believe Zabini would even consider dating a Mudblood?" Ginny laughed coldly.

She felt like she had been slapped. Sure, she had heard the term so many times, and she knew letting it affect her was just giving the derogatory term meaning, but it hurt to hear Ginny say it. Everyone else looked stunned, including George.

Blaise reacted first. His face remained calm. "I never figured you to turn on your best friend, Weaslette," he said, his tone just as cold. "Hermione is twice the witch you'll ever be, and that's with her Muggle blood."

Ginny looked taken back. "I wasn't trying to hurt her," she said, though it was not an apology. "I was simply acknowledging what your lot considers her."

"My lot," he said. "Not me." They glared at each other.

Harry squeezed her hand. "Whatever you believe, Ginny," he said, bringing back the conversation around. She smiled gratefully at him. "It's the truth. And that's how we found you. So you can believe it or not, but those are the facts."

"And why would you turn?" she asked Zabini. "Aren't you too busy living in pure blood heaven right now?"

"Regardless of your misguided thoughts, Weaslette, being a Death eater is no walk in the park," he said. "Some of us are in it simply to keep our lives. And frankly, I'm tired of living like that."

"And he's going to help us, so let's move on," Harry said firmly.

George just nodded and leaned back in his chair. "This will definitely give us more intel at least," he said, kicking his feet up.

"Intel I can do," Zabini smirked. "But first, I could really use a chance to properly clean up. I don't know about you lot, but I'd rather not sit around in my own blood for too long."

"No," Ginny said, standing. "You'd rather sit around in the blood of others." She turned and stormed out of the tent.

Everyone was silent. "When did Weaslette become such a hardass?" Blaise asked.

"Lay off, Blaise," Hermione glared at him. "You might not like the life you live, but it's a hell of a lot more comfortable than we who lost."

She stood to follow Ginny, but Harry stopped her. "I'll go," he said. "I'd like a chance to talk her alone."

She just nodded and watched him follow Ginny out. Zabini sat back. "Not that two of the three unwanted people have left," he looked directly at George with a smirk. There was no malice in his voice.

George just rolled his eyes. "I suppose I can take a hint," he stood and looked at Hermione. "Call if you need me," he said, his eyes very telling. Despite his forthcomings, he still did not fully trust Zabini. Still, it was clear he was going to follow Harry and Hermione's lead.

Blaise waited till he left to speak. "Merlin, to see the size of the rebel force," he whistled. "I can honestly tell you that none of us ever imagined this."

"I know," she said. "I can't believe it either."

"It is good to see you, Granger," he said, putting his feet up on the table. "I wasn't exactly sure you had made it here alive."

"Blaise, what are you doing here?" She asked now that they were alone. Because she had a feeling he hadn't been telling the full truth before. But she was sure he wouldn't have wanted to share with the group.

"I told you why I was doing this, Granger," he said simply. "I'm just here to make sure it happens."

"You're here to make sure you get off on charges afterwards?" She raised an eyebrow at him. Why didn't she believe that?

"Okay, since you're pulling my leg," he shrugged. "I'm here to make sure I make it out of this alive." He paused for a second. "And for you."

"Me?"

"I am under strict orders to protect you at all costs."

"What?" she stared at him.

"Well, when you told him your true identity, he figured out I knew, which was why we were so buddy buddy you and I," he said. "So he told me to come."

"For what?" her words were low, not trusting herself.

"To make sure you don't get yourself killed," he said.

"Why would he do that?"

"You know, Granger you're not exactly living up to your title as the brightest witch of our age," he smirked at her.

"Why, Blaise?" she asked again. She was shaking now.

"He didn't say, but I'm sure we can guess why."

"And you just came here? Knowing they might kill you? Knowing they probably would?"

"I knew you'd save me," he shrugged. "Besides, I couldn't say no to him."

"Because he's your best friend?" Draco had sent him - for her. A million thoughts were running through her mind, she couldn't even process them. How was she supposed to handle this? What did it mean?

"Because he's my brother," he said firmly. "We might not be blood, but we are brothers in everything that matters. I would do the same for him that you would do and have done for Potter. We grow up differently, us old pure blood families. We're thrown together at a young age. Draco and I grew up together and whatever image he's showing the world, I know what is in his heart, Granger. He's a good person underneath all the bullshit. He's a friend I've always relied on, one I know I can always count on. He was there for me in a time when no one else was, including my own mother. And I would give my life if he asked it."

"But he asked you to come here?" she asked again. He nodded and she stood. "I have to go."

She had to go to him. She had to ask him why. She had to look him in the eye while he told her. She had to know for sure. Because if what Blaise said was true, then maybe, just maybe he did love her. She thought back to when he said her name, when he had looked at her for the last time as herself. She knew she could die in the days to come. She knew there was a strong chance she wouldn't make it out of this war alive. But if what she hoped for was true, if he truly did love her, Hermione Granger, then maybe she had more to fight for than she had thought. Maybe she had a future to fight for too. Maybe she had mornings waking up with an arm around her waist. Maybe, just maybe, she had a reason to make sure she came out of this alive. But she had to hear it from him first. She would have to kill this spark of hope fast if it wasn't true. She couldn't afford to be distracted by something that wouldn't come true.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Granger," he said, stopping her.

"Why wouldn't I?" she demanded. "I have to find out what this means."

"Granger, stop," he stood too as she moved to leave the tent. "You can't."

"Why?"

"Because he won't be alone."

That made her turn around and face him. "What?"

"It's not what you think, Granger," he said sadly. "I almost wish it were though."

"Who is there with him, Blaise?" she asked slowly.

"I only just got out in the nick of time," he stalled. "Draco knew what was going to happen, and he got to me before it could."

"What happened?"

"Trust me, Granger, you don't want to know."

"Blaise." In a single word, she conveyed as much as she could. She was begging, and demanding. She was praying and giving up hope. She was breaking and drawing herself together. She needed to know, and she needed to know now. She knew it was bad, if it had Blaise this worked up.

It took him a moment to answer. "The Dark Lord has taken up residence at Malfoy Manor."

* * *

**NEW CHAPTER! What did you guys think? Let me know :)**


	39. Defeating the Darkness

Hermione had been pacing the tent she shared with Harry for the last half hour. She needed to speak to Harry. He had to be the first to know what Blaise had told her. Even though she was ecstatic to see Ginny and George, she wasn't sure how far she trusted them still. Too much time had passed. Too many things had happened in that time. They were living in a different world, and while she was glad to see the two Weasleys, she did not know how much this new world had changed them.

"Hermione?" Ginny came into the tent.

"Hi, Ginny," she said. "Have you seen Harry? I need to talk to him."

"He's meeting with the other surviving Gryffindors," she explained. "But I wanted to talk to you first."

Something in her tone made Hermione stop herself from insisting it could wait. "Okay."

"When I called you a Mudblood, I was just reiterating what they think of you, Hermione," she said. "Not me."

"I know, Ginny," she responded, noticing that it was not exactly an apology. But she put that aside. They had bigger things to worry about. "I have something of yours. I wanted to give it back." She went to her bag and got out Ginny's necklace, the one that Draco had given her once upon a time. She handed it to the redhead. Ginny took it in her hand and stared at it for a long time.

"You really are the brightest witch of our age," Ginny said, looking up at her, her tone slightly bitter.

Hermione said nothing, just staring at her. There was clearly an underlying message here, and she waited till Ginny let it out into the open.

"Bringing Harry back from the dead," she continued. "That's really powerful magic."

"It was dark magic," Hermione said slowly.

"Yeah, but still, you brought someone back from the dead," Ginny insisted. "Not even Dumbledore could do that."

"I'm sure he knew about the spell," Hermione said modestly. "His need to bring back someone was just never as great as mine."

"Why do you think Voldemort never tried it?" Ginny asked thoughtfully. "I mean, he made the horcruxes. Why not just have someone bring him back?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. She had thought about this before. "But it was a very powerful spell, and it required a great amount of trust between Harry and me. I mean, he went to his death trusting me to bring him back. I don't think Voldemort ever trusted anyone enough to do that. Merlin knows he doesn't consider anyone a friend. And it almost killed me. The sheer power of the spell almost killed me. I don't think he thought anyone but himself powerful enough to do it. And if they couldn't accomplish it, then he wouldn't be able to come back. I think the horcruxes were just more of a fail safe for him."

She nodded thoughtfully and was quiet for a moment. "You know, I trust you, Hermione," Ginny said finally.

It took her a moment to respond, having a feeling of where this was going. "I trust you too," she lied.

"I guess there's no point beating around the bush then," she said. "I want you to cast the spell with me, Hermione. And I want you to bring me back if I die in this war."

Hermione just stared at her for a moment. "I'm sorry, I can't do that, Ginny."

"Why not?" Ginny demanded.

"Because it's not right," she said softly. "It upsets the balance of the universe to bring someone back like that. And it almost killed me when I brought Harry back. I was on the brink of death."

"Some things are worth the sacrifice," Ginny said softly.

She could not believe what she was hearing. This was the Ginny Weasley she had known? "I won't do it."

"You brought Harry back!"

"Because we needed Harry, Ginny. Because he's the only one who could end this. I'm sorry. You know I consider you a sister, but I can't bring you back if you die." She didn't bother telling her she might not die. Because Hermione was sure many of them would.

"You don't think they need me?" she shouted heatedly. "I'm the bloody leader of this rebellion. I make the plans. I call the shots! I'm the bloody reason there are this many of us here to fight for Harry. But you don't think I'm important enough to bring back? Some sister."

"No, I don't," she said truthfully. "I'm not saying that you're not important, because you are, Ginny. Every life is important. And I'm not saying what you've done here isn't impressive. But what makes your life more important than anyone else's? What makes your life important enough to upset the balance? That spell almost killed me the first time, Ginny. What makes your life more important than mine?"

"And Harry's was?" she asked coldly.

She stared at her old friend, completely taken back. When had Ginny become - this? When had she become this cold, cruel person? It saddened her heart to see her now. "Yes," she said truthfully. "His life was more important than mine. His life is more important than yours. He is the only person who can stop Voldemort, Ginny. And while what you've done here is impressive, it doesn't change the fact that Harry can end this. It doesn't change the fact that all we have here is a barely surviving fragment of what the world used to be. Harry is the only one who can fix all of this."

"And yet he failed the first time. What makes you so sure he'll be able to the second time around? Especially when he gave in so willingly last time?"

Hermione glared at the witch. She heard what Ginny was saying behind those words. "Harry died to protect you, Ginny. He went to his death to protect all of us. Because everyone would have died if Voldemort entered Hogwarts that day. Harry gave us hope. He gave some of us a chance. Don't you dare diminish that sacrifice, Ginny Weasley. Don't you dare make him out to be a coward."

Ginny was quiet for a moment. "Where did you get this necklace, Hermione?"

"What?"

"My necklace, where did you get it?" She held up the trinket.

Hermione was silent. She didn't know what to say. She couldn't tell her the truth. She couldn't tell her that Draco Malfoy had bought it for his whore.

"And why is it that Zabini trusts you so much? Why do you trust him?" It was like Ginny was talking more to herself now. "Because I know where I sold this necklace and I know how much they were selling it for. So unless you stole it, there's no way you bought it yourself out of sentiment. Harry was too important. And I don't think the year has changed you so much that you'd steal something. Want to know what I think, Hermione?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I think you sold that treasure between your legs for survival. Because Harry was too important. Because dignity be damned. I think you became a whore to bring Harry back. But was it Zabini?"

Hermione stood still as stone, just watching the redhead. Something told her that Ginny already knew.

"You see, I met with this one rebel a little while ago," Ginny continued. "He was a man who had been caught, and then let go. Imagine that. A death eater letting a rebel go alive? This rebel had quite the story, Hermione, would you like to hear it? This rebel was caught and brought to a Death Eater's home. And while there, he saw his daughter was the whore of that Death Eater. Exciting yet? Maybe it will be more intriguing when I tell you that Death Eater was none other than Draco Malfoy." She paused for dramatic effect. Hermione said nothing.

"Now, he told me a wild thing then, he did. He told me the person he thought was his daughter was actually Hermione Granger. And that she had told him that she was going to bring Harry back. Imagine that. Now, at the time, I thought he was completely bonkers, especially when he told me that this Hermione Granger had let Malfoy rape her in front of him to get information out of him. And I thought, no, the Hermione I know would never let Malfoy touch her, let alone do something like that. At least without killing him for it. But last I heard, he was still alive. I didn't believe him, of course. It sounded completely mental. Hermione Granger might be the only person smart enough to bring back the dead, but she was dead. Watching his daughter be raped had clearly driven him mental."

"Now," she said coldly. "Now, I'm not so sure. I think the man was telling the truth. What do you think, Hermione? Does my story sound familiar?"

She took Hermione's silence as a yes. Hermione didn't know what to say. It was great to hear Mr. Shardae had actually been able to get away alive, but she hadn't thought he'd come back here. She hadn't thought her secret would be blown like this.

But more than that, she was reminded of her stupidity. She had forgotten about what Draco had done to her. She had forgotten what he had done for their survival. Did sending Blaise to protect her really make up for it? Did it make him human? Did it make him capable of love when he had already proven he was not?

"I wonder," Ginny went on. "Does godly Harry Potter know what his best friend did for him?"

"He knows," she finally said quietly.

"Really?" Ginny laughed once. "He knows Draco Malfoy raped you and he's okay with that? It may have been a year and we all may have changed a bit, but I doubt he's changed that much."

"He knows enough," she said simply. She knew the redhead was right. Harry would probably kill Draco if he knew the truth.

"I don't think that's true," she said with a small smirk. "At least, it won't be true unless you agree."

She finally understood. Ginny had known about Draco since they came to the came. But she had saved it. She had bid her time. Until she could use it for her advantage. Oh how much she had changed. "I won't," she said finally. She would tell Harry herself before she conformed to this blackmail. "You asked me if Harry's life was so important as to risk my life. You asked me why yours wasn't. This is why. Harry would never ask this of me. And I would do it again for me. Because we trust each other. And because Harry is such a good person that the world will only benefit from his return. And I'm sorry Ginny, but I can't say the same for you - not anymore. Not with the person you've become."

"Think about it, Hermione," she said with a cold smile as she turned to leave the tent. "You don't have to decide now. Oh, and if you see Draco again, thank him for my necklace."

* * *

"Well, everyone knew about tickling the pear. It's not like it was a heavily guarded secret," Parvati was saying to Harry. She was surprised to see the Indian girl was not only alive but also part of the resistance. But George had told her the girl had changed a lot from the vapid gossiping girl she had been.

"Hey Hermione," Harry moved over on the log he was sitting on. "We were just divulging Hogwarts' secrets that we found out over the years."

She smiled at him, though she was sure it did not touch her eyes. It pleased her that he seemed so happy right now, amongst the surviving Gryffindors they had spent so much of their lives with. It hurt her that she was about to ruin that for him. "Harry, can we go for a walk?"

Immediately the easy smile on his lips fell as he stood. "I'll catch you guys later." He followed her away from the watchful group.

She did not speak until they were far from the rest of the camp. He just walked along with her, his face tight as he prepared himself for whatever she would say. She only wished she hadn't been forced into this. But there was one thing she had gotten from her conversation with Ginny, short of learning how much her old friend had changed. She had to tell Harry now. There was no way she was going to cast the spell to bring Ginny back.

"Hermione, what is it?" He asked finally.

She sighed and stopped, turning to face him. "Voldemort is camping out at the Malfoy Manor again."

"Blaise?" he guessed where the information was coming from. She nodded. "Okay so we know where to hit him. I'm sure Nagini will be close too. I don't think he figured out the other horcruxes are gone. I've been thinking all about it and I'm pretty sure he underestimated us. Plus, with a few out there, and no one to oppose him, I doubt he bothered to make more already."

"Harry, about Malfoy..."

"I'm sure Malfoy's alright," Harry prattled on.

"Harry, that's not what I..."

"I mean he's still good ole chums with the snake," Harry hadn't heard her.

"But..."

"Otherwise, why would he choose the Manor?" he continued on.

"Harry!" she almost shouted now.

He finally stopped talking and looked at her. "What?"

"Harry, there's something I need to tell you about Malfoy, and how he found out about the rebel encampment," she said, her voice quiet again.

"What?" he asked warily.

"There was a rebel caught, the man was the father of the face I stole," she took a deep breath and continued on. She had to tell him, and now, before Ginny did. "Draco forced the information out of him."

"I know that," he reminded her. "Blaise told me, remember?"

"Yes, I know," she said. "But the way he forced it out of him - I know Blaise didn't tell you that."

"What did he do?" she saw him clench his wand a bit tighter, though his face gave nothing away.

"There's no easy way for me to tell you this, Harry," she said. "But I have to. And I know how you're going to react, but you have to know now."

"What did he do, Hermione?" He repeated, a bit forcibly.

"He started to force himself on me in front of the man," she said so quietly she wasn't sure he would be able to hear.

But the look on his face told him he had. "He what?"

"I'm sorry," she looked down, tears coming to her eyes.

"What the fuck, Hermione?" He demanded. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I don't know."

"And you love him? How can you love someone like that? I'm going to kill him. That son of a bitch," he ranted. "I cannot believe this."

"I know," she said, ashamed. "But he's not such a monster."

"He tried to rape you, Hermione," Harry rolled his eyes. "In front of the man he considered your father."

"To protect me," she said quietly, trying to reason this with herself. But arguing this with Harry had been precisely why she hadn't wanted to tell him. Because he would make her see all the parts she had overlooked, all the parts she had allowed herself to forget.

"That doesn't make it okay," he said coldly.

"No, it doesn't," she said quietly. "I'm not justifying what he did. I know it was wrong. I know it was evil. I just - I've seen a side of him that no one else probably has. He can be a good man."

"Who will do anything to stay alive," Harry added.

"That's the cruel world we live in now," she told him. "I wish it wasn't so, but it is. And I don't think he did it for himself. I truly think he was trying to protect me."

"I cannot believe this," he shook his head. "You're trying to rationalize this. You're trying to forgive him. Merlin, I cannot believe I let you go to him that night. That's probably why Voldemort is at the Manor. Your little friend probably told him who you are."

"He wouldn't do that," she said.

"Just like he wouldn't rape you to save his own skin?" Harry shot back at her.

"He sent Blaise here to protect me," she told him. "Harry, he's not the best man, I know. He's done a lot of unforgivable things, I'll be the first to admit it. But underneath that, I think he is a good man."

"A good man wouldn't have done that."

"Probably not in a perfect world," she said sadly. "But we don't live in a perfect world. We live in Voldemort's world."

He looked at her for a long time. "You said I had to know now. Why? What happened that you had to tell me now when you didn't tell me before?"

"Ginny came to me," she told h, because she would not keep anything from him, not anymore. "She wants me to cast the spell I cast for you, so that if she dies and I live, I can bring her back."

"What?" his jaw dropped, Malfoy forgotten for a moment. "No, she wouldn't do that. She must know that the spell almost killed you."

"I told her," she said. "She didn't care."

"Who is she?" Harry sighed. "That is not the girl I fell in love with."

"She is a girl living in Voldemort's world," Hermione said sadly.

"You can't do it," he said firmly. "I loved her, but I won't allow you to risk your life again like that, not for that. It's not right."

"I wasn't going to," she said. "I love the Ginny I used to know, but I will not upset the balance again, especially not for that. I don't know if I have it in me to do it again. And I don't know this new Ginny, but I don't think I like her much."

"This is all my fault," he said in anguish. "If I hadn't gone to die, maybe we could have stopped him."

"No, we couldn't have," she said the sad truth. "Ron had just died. Everyone was losing hope. There was no fight left in anyone, including us. If you hadn't gone, we would have all died that day, and there would have been no chance for the future."

He was silent for a long moment. "I don't know how I feel about the Hermione from Voldemort's world," he admitted finally.

She sighed and took his hand in hers. "That's okay. I don't know how I feel about her either. Some days I feel like a different person. Like I'm still Jean Wyler. I know the old me would have cursed Malfoy straight for what he did. But this me, the new me, I think he has some good in him. Despite what he's done, I don't think he's as much of a monster as he seems. Is it enough to save him? I don't know. I hope it is, I truly do. But the new me, the one that has had to survive in this world for a year has gained a new perspective. The one good thing about this new world, Harry, is that it forces you to look for the good in people, however small it may be. Because it's all there is left, the small goodness that is trying to break free in this darkness."

* * *

**NEW CHAPTER! Dun dun dun! So she's finally told Harry the full truth and Ginny's a bitch muahaha anyways, let me know what you think. More drank one coming soon :)**

**Next chapter: Draco's view! A bunch of people have been asking for it and I was planning on doing a couple of his, and now's as good a time as any :)**

** To the anonymous reviewer from the last chapter, not sure if you're still reading, but thank you for the review! I'm not offended at all. I'm just sorry that I made Draco seem only like a monster from the beginning. I was trying to give him a human side, I guess I failed. But truthfully, I am a strong believer in second chances. And I agree, some things you cannot atone for, no matter what. But in my opinion, I think that whatever both Draco and Blaise have done up to this point in service of Voldemort wasn't a power stunt. I wasn't trying to make it like that. I think I overdid it if that's what you got from it. I think they both have another human side to them, and I'm sorry I haven't conveyed that properly enough. With the forcing himself on her thing... I agree. Some things cannot be taken back. And some things cannot be undone. Forcing himself on her was wrong. In that last chapter, I was merely trying to move towards a second chance. Maybe I overdid it and rushed it a bit. I haven't forgotten what he did, and trust me, I was going to go back to that. As for paying for his crimes, I have a plan for that. If you think he's getting off scot-free, you're wrong. I know I might have made it seem like all was forgiven, but it really isn't. (you forget or maybe you think I forgot or maybe you didn't consider it) she had yet to tell Harry about that. Muahaha anyways, I wanted to say thanks and just clear up a few things. Thank you for expressing your feelings, and I will take it into consideration as I continue to write the last chapters of this fic. I always appreciate criticism. I think it helps me make the story and my writing better. **

**Anyways, thanks for reading and let me know what you thought!**


	40. What Draco Realized

Draco Malfoy would not classify his adult self as a coward, at least not much. But he was not ashamed to say that he had been hiding in his study for the past three hours. The Dark Lord had been residing in his home once again for he past week and a half. It was much like when he had stayed there during Draco's seventh year at Hogwarts, but this time, he didn't have his parents to protect him. No, they were killed in service to the a mad man. This time, he was utterly alone.

Voldemort had been trying to break through his mental defenses for the better part of his stay, but the one thing in which Draco was proud of having a bat shit mental Aunt was that Aunt Bellatrix had been very thorough in teaching him Occlumency. The Dark Lord could try all he wanted, but he would not get past Draco's barriers. Bellatrix had made sure of it. Near the end of her life, his mental aunt had seemed to learn the importance of family, and of Draco's mixed feelings of allegiance. And she had trained him for this very scenario.

Though, in the past year, there hadn't been much for him to hide. It was no secret to the Dark Lord that Draco was loyal to him solely because he did not want to die, though it had never been spoken between them. But now, Draco knew too much, he had let too much pass. The Dark Lord would question his loyalty. And whatever else Draco was, he was a survivor first. That was what had gotten him this far in the new wizarding regime. However, as of late, Draco had been wondering if he even had it in him anymore, to do whatever it took to survive. If he had, he wouldn't have let that rebel go. He wouldn't have hidden Granger's true identity. He wouldn't have sent Blaise to protect her.

He hadn't been too surprised that of all his friends, which he didn't count too many, it was Blaise who was ready to defect, who had known of Granger's identity for a year and kept it to himself, who was ready to do whatever it took to get the two of them out of this mess.

_"You owled, mate?" Blaise stepped through the fireplace._

_Draco stared off into the fireplace, nursing his fifth firewhiskey. "Jean came to see me," he said slowly._

_"Well that's good," Blaise said quietly, as if knew where this was going. "Got a good romp in before the big man showed up?"_

_Draco finally looked up, setting his silver eyes on his best and probably only friend. "You'll never believe what she told me."_

_"That she has the next Malfoy heir in the oven?" He teased lightly, though there was an underlying hardness to his tone._

_"I've been trying to piece it altogether," Draco continued, as if Blaise hadn't spoken. "You protected her, you told her about that rebel I let loose. You got awfully chummy with her. Why? You've never placed any interest in the bird I was fucking before. I sat here and wondered for hours. Why her? And then I figured it out. You knew."_

_"Draco..."_

_"At first, I thought I was mental for accusing my only mate," he continued. "But every time I came at it with a different angle, I always came back to it, to you. You knew it was Granger this whole time."_

_"Okay," Blaise said slowly. "I did, but..."_

_"How long?" He cut him off._

_"Draco," he tried again but once again, he cut him off._

_"How long?"_

_Blaise sighed. "I've always known. I saw her on the battlefield that day. I knew she had changed her face and left. I didn't see her again until I saw her with you."_

_"And you didn't tell me." It wasn't a question._

_"I wanted to, mate, I really did."_

_"But you didn't," Draco said simply. "Why?"_

_"Well, honestly? I wasn't sure if you'd turn her in," he said quietly. And there was the truth at last. Whatever Draco's reasons for continuing to support the Dark Lord, his mixed allegiances went both ways, even to the one person who knew the real Draco Malfoy. "Clearly, I was wrong."_

_He was quiet for a long time, just staring at Blaise. A million questions ran through his mind. How far deep was. Blaise with Granger? What was she planning? Was he really not going to turn her in? His mental defenses were strong, but if he slipped even for a second, Voldemort would know, and he would be killed. Could he risk that? Did he even want to? This was Hermione bloody Granger, Gryffindor know it all princess, best friend of. Harry Potter._

_"What am I supposed to do now?" He asked Blaise._

_"Well, you haven't turned her in yet," Blaise said, taking a step forward._

_"No."_

_"And you could have."_

_"Yes."_

_"You let her walk out of here unscathed when she came to tell you."_

_"Yes."_

_"And you love her."_

_"Ye- wait. What? No."_

_Blaise had a smirk on his face as he sat in the seat across his desk, leaning back. "You do."_

_"Zabini, this is Hermione bleeding Granger," he stated as if he didn't quite grasp that._

_"Yes, I am aware," Blaise rolled his eyes. "She's also Jean Wyler. And you love her."_

_"Stop saying that!"_

_Blaise sighed. "We've been mates for a long time. I know you probably better than you know yourself. I've seen you with her. I've seen you when You thought you lost her because of that rebel business. Listen to me carefully. You. Love. Her."_

_Draco sighed, looking at him for a long time. Did he love her? Maybe. Did that mean they could have their happily ever after? Not a chance in hell. He had done too many things, committed too many atrocities to be granted a happy ending. Granger may have changed in this past year, but she was still the same beacon of goodness. And he was still a Malfoy. They would always be on opposite sides. But that didn't mean he couldn't make sure she made it out of this alive. Even if he didn't. She had told him she had a plan. He could make sure she won. Even if it meant his death. Fuck, when had he ever put anyone's life ahead of his, short of his mother? When did he ever care if anyone else made it, especially at his expense? When had Granger crept under his skin? Was it because of Jean Wyler? Because he had thought he cared for Jean. But Jean didn't have Granger's fire. She didn't have Granger's ability to make his so bloody aggravated. She didn't have Granger's capability to make him question every deep rooted thought he had ever had. She didn't have Granger's - anything._

_It was her eyes, he thought. He remembered what she had said, and why he had offered Jean his proposition in the first place. It was her fucking eyes. Whatever else looked different, they held the same fire as Granger's. He had tried so hard to remember where he had seen those piercing eyes, that could look deep into his soul, that could make him question himself and the principles that had Ben engraved into him since birth. It wasn't Jean Wyler he had cared about, he realized. It was her eyes, and who they reminded him of. And since day one, they had reminded him of Hermione fucking Granger._

_"Oh bloody hell," he said, downing the rest of his drink. "I love her."_

_Blaise poured them both a drink, and raised his glass to him. "You love her."_

_Draco was silent for a moment. "She has a plan."_

_"I know," Blaise said tensely. Draco knew the look on his face. Blaise knew what her plan was. And he wasn't going to tell him. "And I think it's actually crazy enough to work."_

_"The Dark Lord is coming here tonight," Draco said slowly. "You'll need to go now. Tell her he plans to make more soon. She'll understand."_

_Blaise downed the rest of his drink and stood, nodding. It had always been like this between them. Draco wouldn't even need to explain himself fully because Blaise would already know what he was thinking. He always knew. That was why Blaise Zabini had been his best mate. Crabbe and Goyle had always been his goonies, following him around because of the high standing of the Malfoys, always doing what he said because they were too stupid to think for themselves. But Blaise had always been just as brilliant, and never let Draco get away with half the bullshit he pulled on the others. Maybe it was that ability to be his equal, maybe it was because he never really had a choice, but Zabini had become like a brother to him. Maybe that was why he loved Granger too, he rationalized. Because she would never put up with his bullshit. Because she could be his equal._

_"Come with me," Blaise said._

_Draco shook his head. He knew there was no redemption for him. He knew it was too late for him. Now, all he could do was somehow make sure Zabini and Granger made it out alive. "Don't tell her I sent you," he said firmly._

_"Yeah, yeah," Blaise walked to the fireplace._

_Draco sighed. "I'm serious, Blaise. Don't tell her. She'll think I can be saved if you do."_

_"You can be, mate," Blaise said slowly._

_Draco didn't say anything. If he got into this now, Blaise wouldn't leave until he thought he had convinced him, and it might be too late. Voldemort would be here soon. Blaise had to get out before them. "Go," he said._

_Blaise walked into the fireplace, and looked at Draco one last time. "See you later, mate," he promised._

_"Keep her safe," he said as Blaise took a fistful of the Floo Powder. "Oh and Blaise?" Blaise paused and looked at him. "Be careful."_

_He watched Blaise disappear in a burst of green fire. He leaned back and downed the rest of his drink. It was not even a minute later that he heard a window swish open. He sighed, and stood. He was here._

* * *

He walked into his dining room. The Dark Lord had set up base throughout the bottom floor, and had taken his parents' wing as his residence. Draco didn't care about that. When his parents died, he had remained in his own room, refusing to pick up his father's mantle.

The Dark Lord sat at the foot of the table, petting that disgusting snake. The others looked at him fleetingly. Nott just downright glared at him. "Ah, Draco," Voldemort looked at him with what could only be described as an attempt at a smile. "Nott, make room for The Lord of this Manor."

"My Lord?" Theo looked at him wide-eyed.

"Lord Voldemort does not like to repeat himself," he said coldly. Not even bothering to look at him. "I will not ask again, Nott."

"My Lord," Nott bowed his head in defeat and got up to move down the table to a vacant seat, but not before shoving his shoulder into Draco on his way. Draco refrained from rolling his eyes. As if he wanted to be next to the snake.

"You summoned, my Lord," he rubbed his arm that had been stinging only a few moments ago as he took the seat next to the Dark Lord. Immediately, he felt the attack on his mental barriers. Draco struggled to keep his face impassive as he fought him off.

"Where if your other half?" Voldemort asked, as he tried to find Draco's weakness. "I haven't seen him at the meetings since I came here."

"He's on an assignment," Draco said slowly, taking a deep breath.

"Oh?" Voldemort said simply. "What mission is that?"

"We thought we found the rebel encampment," Draco said, having already thought this out. "Zabini is trying to gain access and infiltrate it."

"Always an overachiever, aren't you Draco?" Voldemort said, his teeth baring in another smile. "I'm glad to see at least one of my followers can take the initiative. You have pleased your Lord, as has Zabini."

"My Lord," Draco bowed his head.

"And what of your pretty friend?" He continued his interrogation, looking for his weakness. "I've heard of your dissolved betrothal to young Ms. Greengrass. I take it this Ms. Wyler is quite the enchantress if she could convince you to defy your Lord."

"She's dead," he said simply. It wasn't a full out lie. Jean Wyler was dead. No need to share that she had never really been alive anyway, or that Hermione Granger was back on the loose. "It was never my intention to defy you, my Lord," he continued. "You know I live only to serve you. It was just that Astoria actually has a pure blood lined up in France and I saw no reason to stop her from making such a beneficial alliance. Especially when there are several other pure blooded witches for me to choose from."

"Spoken like a true Malfoy," Voldemort let out a cold laugh. The attack on his mental defenses finally stopped. "Well, now that that is settled, let us move on to the true reason I've called you all here."

"You mean it wasn't to bore us with all the juicy details of Malfoy's love life?" Nott's whisper carried over the table.

"Crucio!" Voldemort moved too fast for anyone to react. Nott gasped in pain, though he did not scream. They had all learned already that screaming only made it worse.

After a few moments, Voldemort sat back and put his hands together. "I have been too lenient towards these rebels. They have spent too much time thinking they had the strength to overpower me. Why should I care you ask? When there beloved hero has been dead for a year, and they are few in number? Because hope is a troubling thing. It can be a small flame now, but soon, it could very well be a fire. Unless it is put out. I had hoped that without their savior Harry Potter, they would have submitted, as there is no other hope to defeat me. Alas, I was wrong. They have spent too long thinking they can one day overpower me. The anniversary of my rise to power approached, and we will use it to teach these rebel swine a lesson. That none can defy Lord Voldemort and live."

He paused for a moment before looking at Draco. "How far is Zabini from infiltrating their forces?"

"He is supposed to send me a missive soon, my Lord," Draco lied smoothly. "To tell me their numbers and force."

"Very well, we shall wait until the eve of the 2nd of May," he went on. "If we have not heard back, we will march on them with the might of a hundred pure bloods and burn them to the ground. Draco, prepare my forces. You will lead them. And we will rid ourselves of these foolish blood traitors and mud bloods once and for all."

"My Lord," Nott called out. "If there is any way that I can serve you in this, it would be my greatest honor."

Voldemort looked at Draco for a moment before responding. "Very well, Nott, you may have your chance to prove your worth. You will take some followers, and rid the streets of the beggars and traitors that have darkened my world for too long."

"My Lord," Draco spoke quickly. "You can't do that."

The room went silent.

"You may be favored in this room, Draco, but do not presume to believe you can tell Lord Voldemort what to do," his voice was low, threatening. "You do not want me thinking you sympathize with the traitors."

"I would never presume that," he went on quickly. "I merely meant that defeating them on huge anniversary of your taking control of the wizarding world is quite symbolic. But if you attack those on the streets, the rebels might attack us now, and it would ruin your plan. I merely meant that perhaps we should wait until we defeat the rebels before we set Nott on the swine on the streets. After all, they pose no threat. They have no wands, and their magic is practically defeated. They are but the mud bloods and blood traitors that remain from the old world. We can deal with them after."

Voldemort was silent for a moment as he thought it over. Draco held his breath for the verdict. It wasn't that he especially cared for those who lined the streets, but he knew that now that Granger was back and with a plan, she would not stand for their eradication. He needed to buy them both time. Her to administer her plan, and him to make sure he could play it right.

"Very well, Draco, you will have your way," he spoke finally. "Nott, do not begin the vermin eradication just yet. You are all dismissed." Everyone stood to leave. "Draco, if you could remain for a moment."

He sat back down, praying he hadn't just signed his death warrant. The room was quickly evacuated short of Voldemort, the snake, and. Draco. It was only when the door closed that Voldemort spoke.

"Crucio!" He pointed his wand at Draco.

Draco gasped in pain, his body falling to the floor and writhing in pain. His every nerve was on fire. He bit his tongue to stop the screams until he tasted blood in his mouth. After several minutes, which felt like lifetimes to Draco, Voldemort finally relented. "You may be favored by your Lord, Draco, but do not defy my orders again."

"My Lord," he tried to sit up slowly, gasping for breath. "I apologize."

"You know much, Draco. More than any of my other followers. I have told you many secrets," he went on. "But that does not exempt you from death if you betray me."

"I would never betray you," he said.

"Of course not," Voldemort smiled coldly as he stood. "Come, Nagini."

He left Draco on the floor, gasping for breath, and trying to move. He groaned as he finally got up. He let out a deep breath, as he closed his eyes. He needed to figure out a way to get Zabini the update on Voldemort's plan. Granger better have had the best fucking plan ever created to end that snake. Or he was going to kill her himself.

* * *

**NEW UPDATE! What did you guys think? Finally Draco realizes his feelings her Hermione! **

**Hope you guys had a good New Years! **

**Please let me know what you thought!**


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